Cartons of milk
by evil minded
Summary: AU / Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you already can imagine … *lol* … watch our dear Potions Master handling a bunch of "little snotty toddlers" ... all reviews will go to the kindergarden for a carton of milk for them ...
1. headmasters and teachers

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 13th 2011

**Timeframe:**

I won't tell _this _right now – you'll learn in this chapter

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the school in Little Whinging, Surrey, (I won't tell which one yet) to cover the class one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you already can imagine … *lol* …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse …

Child abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing … and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped …  
I think, a lot of readers do not really grasp the meaning behind the words in all the stories here written about an abused Harry, they read the words, maybe they feel sorry for poor Harry … but I guess just a few are really able to know what they mean, those words, what they mean for those children in our world …  
Yet, closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution …  
So I write this to remind all of you who will read this, that there are children in our world which are enduring just such … and worse …  
To remind you of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding …  
Maybe it will help some of you to handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

* * *

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**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter one**

**Prologue **

**Headmasters and teachers**

Cursing under his breath he cast a stasis charm over the potion he had been working on and then left his laboratory. He quickly strode through his parlour and then left his quarters as well, warding the door despite the fact that besides of Albus, Minerva, Poppy and himself no other teacher and surely no student resided at the castle right now as it still were the summer holidays – even if they would end soon, and that for his peace as well.

Hastily he strode through the dungeon corridors, up a flight of stairs and through the entrance hall.

Upon reaching the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office he was seething while he gave the name of the – yet another stupid muggle sweet Albus had chosen for his password – between clenched teeth, wondering how in Merlin's name Albus always managed to call him whenever he had a potion brewing.

Well, he was a Potions Master and so he _always_ brewed potions, alright, but that didn't excuse the blasted old coot to call him whenever he actually _was_ brewing a potion! Couldn't the blasted headmaster call him when he was _not_ brewing one? In other words – never?

Climbing the stars quickly he scowled darkly and then knocked at the wooden door that led to the headmaster's office.

"Come in, Severus." The older wizard called out and he opened the door, stepped into the office.

"Headmaster." He greeted, inclining his head curtly.

"Severus, my dear boy." The headmaster said, the twinkling of his eyes increasing. "Take a seat. Lemon drop?"

Of course this question came.

It always came.

And somehow he wondered if Albus simply was too stupid to realize that since five years he now declined those blasted lemon drops, or if the man simply wanted to annoy him with still asking him whenever he entered his office.

"I do wish to keep my teeth, headmaster." He said, sitting down into one of the armchairs that stood in front of the headmaster's desk. "What is it you called me for?"

"Straight to the point, Severus, as always." The older wizard smiled at him, pouring tea into a second cup and reaching it over.

"I just do not wish to sit here tomorrow evening still." He answered, reaching out for the cup and taking a sip of the tea.

'_Calming draught.'_ He thought, wondering what the old fool would have in this blasted mind of his now and wondering if Dumbledore really thought he wouldn't notice the calming draught in the tea. Nevertheless he took another sip, knowing that probably he would need it and knowing that at least it wouldn't affect his thinking.

"Well, as you wish." Dumbledore said, chuckling and he had to keep himself from feeling annoyed. "I do need a favour of you, Severus."

"You _always _– are in need of a favour of me whenever you call me over during the holidays and laze my tea with a calming draught."

"Oh, so you noticed, Severus?" The man asked, looking at him innocently.

"Of course I noticed, headmaster." He growled darkly. "I am not a simple potions teacher but a Potions _Master_. I would have to give back my diploma if I would not notice. Now what favour do you need this time?"

"Well, Severus." The older wizard started, slowly. "I need you to leave Hogwarts."

He was sacked?

Albus sacked him?

"May I ask what reason for, headmaster?" He asked. He wasn't really surprised that he would be sacked. He had known that it would come one day or another. First – he wasn't needed as a spy anymore, second – he wasn't such an important person in the first place and third – he wasn't a pleasant person and even more unpleasant to the students. Many of them complained about him.

So – well, he would make his money with potions from now on as it seemed, a fact he didn't really mind, but he at least wanted to know the reason.

"Only for this upcoming school year, Severus." Dumbledore answered, probably having sensed his thoughts of being sacked. "I need you in Little Whinging, Surrey, for a while." Dumbledore slowly continued then, probably knowing that he breached a dangerous subject. "I don't know for how long, but as I need you there as a teacher, you cannot leave those children behind in the middle of the term if the problem there is solved before the end of it and so I ask you to take the job for the entire upcoming school year. Until the end of it I hope that the problem is solved and that we will have you back for the next term."

So he wasn't actually sacked, just moved to another school for a year.

But Surrey …

"May I ask what kind of problem Potter may have caused, headmaster?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow. "He just got five if I am correct."

"A bit more than three weeks ago, yes." Dumbledore answered. "So you are taking that job?"

"Absolutely no, headmaster." He growled darkly. "I just was curious."

"Severus, please." The old meddling coot begged.

"No, headmaster." Albus had asked a lot of favours of him over the years, but this one definitely surpassed everything. "First, it is Potter we are speaking of. Second, Potter is _five_, what means that he attends pre-school. And third – I will not – absolutely _not _– play a pre-school teacher! The eleven year old first years here at Hogwarts are already too young for being taught by me to begin with and now you want me teaching a horde of five year old toddlers?"

"They are hardly toddlers anymore, Severus." The headmaster said, shaking his head while giving away a sad sigh. "Severus, I need someone there with a bit more intelligence than Sibyll or Charity. I however can't send Minerva as she is the deputy headmistress and surely I cannot send Filius. It would be a bit strange, wouldn't you agree? Aurora wouldn't know what to look for and Pomona cannot leave for an entire year because of all her plants. Poppy surely wouldn't be able to look after them during her absence. I need you there, Severus. Please. I will make it up to you, I promise."

With a snort Severus glared at the headmaster. The old coot knew exactly that there wasn't anything he wanted. Aside from being free of teaching the lower grades – preferably _all _grades below NEWTs, but he knew that _that_ simply was impossible.

"No, headmaster." He growled, shaking his head. "Absolutely no. It still is Potter we are taking about. I absolutely refuse to play nursery nurse to a spawn of Potter. Absolutely – never – no – ag – minime – non – nee – nei – niet – não – hayir! Put it in any language you can imagine – no! Absolutely no …"

"Severus!" Dumbledore's now old and unbending voice interrupted his ranting like the executioner's axe that cut through skin, nerve and bone, and all energy to fight vanished while all that remained was nothing but dull resignation on his mind. He knew exactly what would follow. He knew already that tone of voice.

But then – well, Potter would attend Hogwarts one day, and who knew? Maybe one day he _would_ need a favour of Dumbledore and if …

"Well, I will do what you ask of me, headmaster." He slowly answered after a moment. "But you owe me something. And be warned, it won't be something small, I will safe this one until I really need it."

"Fine." Dumbledore smiled at him, rubbing his hands. "Well, then you surely would like to prepare your leave. I have already rent a house at number seven, Private Drive, already furnished with everything you might need in such a muggle environment and a car is standing in the driveway. I do hope you know how to drive a car, Severus? Ah, good, my boy, very good. Tomorrow morning at ten there will be a staff meeting at St. Catherine, the pre- and primary school in Little Whinging. They are meeting in the staff room where you will be introduced by the headmistress, Miss Cassandra Davenport, an elderly but very agile woman still. You will overtake the … well, what did she call it … the raccoon class, yes. Eleven children, if I got this right, seven boys and four girls. I have to admit that Miss Davenport was a bit curious as to why I would ask her to hire one of my teachers, but well, she accepted. I left an explanation to this up to you, my boy. Ah, and she asked me to inform you to be there half an hour before the staff meeting tomorrow morning. She wanted a word with you beforehand."

"Merlin!" Snape groaned while walking down into the dungeons. "What have I gotten myself into now!"

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To find number seven, Private Drive, hadn't been a problem at all, he simply had apparated shortly before sunrise and entering the house Albus The-Old-Meddling-Coot Dumbledore had rented for him he found that at least the old man had thought of everything he would need, including food for the first few days and a small potions laboratory down in the basement.

Handling the car hadn't been a problem either, even if it was some years he last had driven one – and even if it had been without a driving licence back then - and even St. Catherine he had found easily. So in the end right now he was standing in the corridor of the school building, a rather modern construction kept in bright colours and with gardens and playgrounds surrounding the three level building that formed an L.

"Enter." Came a female voice from the inside of the headmistress' office and he opened the door, entered the office while he wondered if she would be as meddling as Dumbledore was. Maybe it was a headmaster – or headmistress – thing.

"Headmistress Davenport." He calmly greeted, inclining his head towards her while at the same time taking in the bright office that was furnished with bright brown, wooden sideboards, a shelf filled with books, and a coffee table with a few armchairs surrounding it. It was nothing compared to Dumbledore's office, he noticed, but it nevertheless didn't look less used.

"Ah, Mr. Snape." She said, getting off the armchair she had been sitting in, taking notes on plain white sheets of paper that lay on the table. "Take a seat, please."

"_Professor_ Snape." He corrected her while he took the offered chair, trying to judge the headmistress. She was – just like Albus had said – an elderly woman, around sixty maybe, her grey hair pinned up to a bun. Her face was calm and seemed friendly but stern, blue eyes studying him carefully. She wore a dark blue dress with long sleeves, no jewellery, and her face showed little make-up. She was not tall but a rather slender woman, probably from the work with younger children that kept her on the go throughout the years.

"Yes, headmaster Dumbledore already told me that you are a professor, Mr. Snape, but the children won't address you with your title." She said, sitting back into the armchair she had been getting off from. "They are too young for regarding a title and normally a pre-school teacher doesn't wear one anyway. Not to mention that my teachers would be suspicious as to _why _I would hire a professor for a pre-school class and headmaster Dumbledore asked me to handle this with some – privacy. A fact I am not really consent with but will accept for now. So you better get used to being addressed with simply Mr. Snape before you meet the children in two days."

Burrowing his frustration behind his usual mask he inclined his head. He would be able to live with that for some time.

"I however really would like to know why your headmaster did send one of his teachers to my school. And – as was his explicit wish – to the pre-school class Mr. Potter attends no less. It isn't that your school is a primary school the boy would attend in a year or two. As I learned from headmaster Dumbledore, it rather is a very respectable academic institution that is comparable to a well regarded high school, and I wonder why he would send you here. Not to mention why he would not send one of his female teachers as male pre-school teachers are a rather rare thing to find."

"Actually, Mr. Potter _is _already registered for the Hathaway Academy." He said, reminding himself that he had to use the cover address they gave whenever they had dealings with muggles. "He will attend Hathaway on September 1991."

"It is a long time until then." The older woman said, frowning. "And besides, I cannot imagine Harry attending a school like Hathaway. He is a scrawny and ill little boy that often is missing a day or two because of his illness, a boy that barely is noticed by anyone. Miss Adams always said he could be present, sitting in front of you, and you wouldn't see him anyway. He is living with his aunt and uncle who hardly provide him with what he needs and I cannot imagine that they would have registered him at a boarding school such as Hathaway that surely is very expensive."

"Mr. Potter's parents already had been attending Hathaway and they had registered the boy before their untimely death." He answered. He had known that this question would come up. But well, it was the truth anyway as Potter already _had_ paid the school fees of his son, a thing that was not so uncommon in the wizarding world. There were some, especially the pure bloods, who registered their children at Hogwarts and paid the school fees for all seven years upon the children's birth. "They also have already paid the school fees for their son and so he actually _is_ already a student of ours, even if he is not attending yet. And as you already pointed out that Hathaway is a very expensive academic institution, but one of the best also, we do care for our future students as well as for our present and past ones. We neither ship them off after graduation nor do we simply lean back and wait for our future students to finally arrive at Hathaway. We have a look at them from time to time."

"May I ask what exactly you have been teaching at Hathaway?" The woman asked, not going deeper into his explanation – luckily.

"I have been teaching chemistry." He answered with a drawl. "A subject you do not happen teaching your pre-schoolers?"

"Actually – no, Mr. Snape." The woman laughed. "We rather start with colours, the alphabet and small numbers. You will have to change over to simpler things."

"How inconvenient. What can you tell me about Potter generally?" He then asked, tilting his head to his left a bit.

"Well, as I said, the boy is small, scrawny and plain. If I could, then I would use the word neglected, but I have nothing to put my finger on."

"And what makes you think so?" He asked, frowning. Potter? Neglected? _That_ simply was impossible.

"For once the hand-me-downs from Dudley Harry always wears. I doubt that Harry ever had worn anything else than his cousin's old clothes since he started pre-school last year at four."

"At four?" Snape asked, confused. "I always thought the children were supposed to visit pre-school at three."

"Normally yes." Miss Davenport answered. "But Harry always had been much too small. Even now, at five, he is much smaller than the four year old children in his class – and far behind them in other things as well. He is not stupid, don't take me wrong. He is just too slow, too shy, and he isn't daring in any way. His self esteem is practically not existent. The good thing however is that this way he is not together in a class with his cousin like he would if he had started here with three. Both boys are the same age but Dudley is not only thrice Harry's body mass but a bully also."

"Surely that boy would not go against his own cousin?" Snape asked, his eyebrow lifted in curiosity.

"Believe me, Mr. Snape, he would." Cassandra Davenport answered. "Actually, it happens rather often."

"What else makes you think that the boy would be neglected?" He asked.

"As I said, it is not really neglect and I cannot really put a finger to it. But Harry always arrives here with an empty lunchbox. Mrs. Dursley claims that he's eating his lunch on his way to pre-school. She is bringing Dudley each morning with the car and she picks him up each evening, but not Harry and she claims that the boy would be afraid of the car. As his parents had died in a car crash, it would be comprehensible. And she is paying for the milk cartons that are handed out to the children for their nap for Dudley, but not for Harry and she claims that Harry does not like milk and that she would not pay for something the boy wouldn't drink anyway. Once however Harry had looked so sadly at the cartons the other children got, that Miss Adams gave him one and he drank it. So we are providing Harry with one too of course. Those milk cartons are two pounds a week and we can afford them, but that is not the point. The point simply is that all those things are explained by Mrs. Dursley, but if I take it all in all, then I have a bad feeling."

Snape couldn't help nodding for a moment.

But then – Potter was afraid of cars as his aunt had told the boy that his parents had died in a car crash, a thing that inwardly had him seething for a moment but he shrugged it off. His aunt probably _had _to explain his parents' death to the boy and she hadn't known how to explain it anyhow else. Potter ate his lunch on his way to pre-school and at home he didn't drink milk while he did so in his class, probably didn't want to be left out. So what? Even the hand-me-downs, he didn't see a problem with that. There were many children that wore hand-me-downs after all.

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The staff room was as airy and kept in as bright colours as was the rest of the school he had seen so far, a large table sitting in the middle of the room surrounded by about twenty chairs. Only fourteen of them however were occupied right now and he supposed that only the class teachers and the headmistress were present at the staff meeting.

Beside him a young woman that had been introduced as Miss Atkins was sitting, skimming through the papers Miss Davenport had handed out earlier – nearly _three_ hours ago, he noticed, hoping this staff meeting would come to an end finally – and she frowned before leaning over to him.

"You have the middle ones. When do you need the gym with your children?" She asked. "According to my lesson plan I have the little ones in the gym on Wednesday afternoons, but on Wednesday afternoons normally the middle ones are in the gym."

"Friday afternoons." He answered after taking a look at his lesson plan.

"But Friday afternoons normally the bigger pre-schoolers are in the gym." Miss Atkins frowned, looking over at another woman to her left, Miss Weldon.

"Not this year." Miss Weldon answered, skimming through her papers as well. "We have the gym on Monday afternoons this year."

"While the little ones are learning colours, left and right, and a proper basic vocabulary, please see that your middle ones are learning the alphabet, small numbers, and the clock, Mr. Snape, so the bigger ones can start with writing their names and a few basic words. It is important that we work hand in hand so the children can start learning reading and writing for real the moment they change into primary school."

"Of course." He inclined his head. He wouldn't have expected anything else, even if he didn't really like teaching – _toddlers_ – the alphabet and small numbers. And they _were_ toddlers, never mind what Dumbledore had said. Four year old toddlers!

"You are a pre-school teacher?" The young man on his other side asked, nearly shocked. Mr. Howell, the class teacher from one of the two fourth classes from primary school. "I thought you were the new math teacher. But well – I guess we have to cover this particular subject by ourselves yet again. I simply never have seen a male pre-school teacher."

Frowning he shook his head. Was this man dim witted somehow? It wasn't as if the headmistress hadn't introduced him as the middle-pre-school-class teacher that overtook the – _raccoon_ – class for this upcoming school year as Miss Adams was on parental leave for a year. But well – there always was at least one teacher that annoyed him, like Sibyll Trelawney, just for example. And so he simply nodded, not bothering to give an answer.

"Please see that _all_ of the children are wearing warm socks with none-slip nubs over their normal socks while being inside. Last year we had a lot of trouble with the bigger pre-schoolers wearing them, as they said, 'we are big now, we won't need them anymore'." Miss Davenport then continued, imitating a children's voice before shaking her head with a sigh. "If they are running through the corridors with their shoes on, then those children that actually _are_ wearing their socks only will get wet and cold feet during the winter months, and the whole purpose is missed."

"I know, but they really think they are too big for those socks." Miss Atkins to his left answered. "And they think that they are too big for a nap also. I am glad that this year I start over with the little ones again."

"Nonsense." Miss Weldon shook her head. "The bigger ones are as manageable as are the little ones."

"Of course they are. But well, just wait for the Dursley boy this year." Miss Atkins growled. "I am sure that now, that he counts himself as a big pre-schooler, he will have his head held very high."

"Ridiculous." Miss Weldon scowled and he lifted his eyebrow, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest. "Dudley simply is an angel. I don't see why none of you see this. The boy is intelligent and he is so respectful and obedient. Not like his cousin that can't even look you into the eyes because of his bad conscience."

"Well, maybe because we are not invited to the Dursleys for tea on Sunday afternoons at least once a month?" Miss Atkins asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice and Snape couldn't help chuckling inwardly while he kept his indifferent mask outwardly.

"What exactly is it you …"

"Ladies …" Miss Davenport interrupted. "If you would stop behaving like the children you are teaching, please. And please, remind yourself, I do not wish to have a repeat of what happened last year."

Both women fell silence at once.

"Good." The headmistress nodded without explaining what exactly had happened last year. "We also will have our parent-teacher conferences once a quarter. For the pre-schoolers, please note that we still don't have an extra canteen, so you still will have to take the children from the pre-school wing to the main building, the little ones on Wednesdays, the middle ones on Fridays and the big ones on Mondays. Well, any questions?"

Gladly none of them had as they all seemed to be eager leaving for their last weekend before the new term would start next week and so he finally could leave this hell of a school before he would have to come back on Monday morning.

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**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in ****Cartons of milk**

_Snape's first day as a pre-school teacher, meeting his raccoons and a small green eyed and black haired boy named Harry Potter__._

**Added author's note**

A lot of people thought it funny, me mentioning Severus threatening his students with handing out cartons of milk because they acted too childish … and so I thought – alright, why not making a story out of it? Well – that is what came out of it …

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter … thank you …


	2. green eyes and raccoons

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

February, 18th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year at pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you already can imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse …

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated …

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in Cartons of milk**

_"Good." The headmistress nodded without explaining what exactly had happened last year. "We also will have our parent-teacher conferences once a quarter. For the pre-schoolers, please note that we still don't have an extra canteen, so you still will have to take the children from the pre-school wing to the main building, the little ones on Wednesdays, the middle ones on Fridays and the big ones on Mondays. Well, any questions?"_

_Gladly none of them had as they all seemed to be eager leaving for their last weekend before the new term would start next week and so he finally could leave this hell of a school before he would have to come back on Monday morning._

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter ****two**

**Green eyes and raccoons**

Getting up this morning had cost him quite some effort, he had to admit and alone the thought of teaching – _caring_ – for some four year old children, because surely there wouldn't be anything he could _teach_ four year old children, had nearly had him dropping back into his pillows and pulling his blanket over his head – not to mention that Potter would be one of those children.

But well, of course he had gotten up, had made himself a cup of coffee and then he had taken a shower, had dressed for the day. He would survive a year handling – _toddlers_. He had dressed in plain black muggle Jeans, a black shirt and he had braided his hair, had fastened it with a simple hair tie. He had grabbed his jacket and his keys and then he had left the house, had made his way to St. Catherine and now it was half past seven.

The children would arrive in half an hour.

Parking the car he frowned at a small and scrawny child that was sitting on the steps in front of the doors to the pre-school wing.

St. Catherine had two separate entries, one for the smaller pre-school wing, and one for the larger wing that held the primary school, two first classes, a second class, and two third and fourth classes aside from the canteen, the gym and the music room.

Still frowning he turned off the motor and left the car, closed the door that gave a low but a satisfyingly 'thud' away. The boy couldn't be older than three and so it had to be one of Miss Atkins' little ones. But what was the boy doing here half an hour early? The children weren't supposed to be here before half past eight. They were supposed to arrive between half past eight and nine, in fact.

But well – he simply would take the boy to his respective classroom where he belonged to, handing him over to Miss Atkins, and if she wasn't there yet, well, he surely would be able to look after a three year old for half an hour.

Coming closer he looked the boy over.

Black hair, pale and thin face, shabby clothes and worn shoes, the boy wore no jacket over his t-shirt, even if it was a rather cool morning and he was shivering in the cool air. No wonder, Snape growled darkly, it was no morning to run along in a t-shirt only and the sun surely wouldn't come out before the next hour or two. What kind of mother sent her three year old child out in such a chilly weather wearing a t-shirt only? And alone on his first day of pre-school, no less?

The child held a just as worn backpack clutched to his chest as if he were afraid someone could take it away from him or as if hiding behind it and the moment he came closer, came over to the steps the boy seemed to sense his presence and looked up at him, frightened green eyes meeting his dark ones and he nearly gasped, lifted his eyebrow to keep his facial expression neutral as always.

It was Potter!

It was Potter sitting there on the steps, half an hour early, looking up at him with frightened green eyes, watching him warily, his eyes never leaving him and he was hit with a memory he hadn't thought of in a very long time.

**Flashback**

_"Severus!"_

_T__he moment he turned to face Lily he did a short but deep intake of breath at the smile she greeted him with, her green eyes sparkling with joy and happiness._

_"I didn't think you would visit, Severus." The woman he had loved since he first had met her a bit more than twelve years ago when they both had been children only said and then - just like the Lily he knew – shoved a mewling bundle he hadn't noticed before into his arms. There was a shy, yet proud smile upon her face. "This is Harry, Severus." She whispered._

_Well, of course he had known that Lily had been pregnant, and of course he had known that she had delivered the child, what had been the reason he had come to the hospital to visit her in the first place – Potter or not Potter, Lily still was his friend and of course he would visit her in hospital._

_And nevertheless …_

_For a moment __Severus nearly shoved the bundle back at Lily, but then the barely a week old baby opened his eyes and looked up at him and the small creature stopped its faint fussing and regarded him, Severus, if it were even possible, with trust, with a trust that was so deep he actually hitched a breath and had he not locked his knees just then, he might have stumbled and fallen. He knew, with all the senses he had worked on and perfected as a spy during the past two years, that this tiny being felt safe with him and this knowledge was nearly too much to bear._

**End flashback**

And now he was here, the same green eyes looking up at him while the boy at the same time quickly scrambled to his feet, awkwardly, retreating a step, and he could see nothing of this trust that had been there once. All he could detect in those green eyes now were mistrust – fear even, tiredness, pain, uncertainty and hopelessness, while at the same time he could see some strange kind of acceptance in those damn green eyes.

Pulling himself together after he had been standing there for at least a minute, motionless regarding the boy, he took a deep breath and then inclined his head.

"You are early, Potter." He said, climbing the stairs, passing the boy that indeed looked rather like a three year old than like a five year old child and he unlocked the door that led into the building.

Potter didn't answer, just slowly followed him inside and along the corridor with his tiny steps, not even asking who he were. He opened the door to the room of the raccoon class, entered and the boy silently slipped in after him, going straight to the bench that stood on the wall beside the door. He sat at the floor, again with the typical awkward movements of a toddler, pulling off his shoes and Snape noticed that he didn't even have to open them at first as they were too big for him – as were the rest of the atrocious clothes the boy was wearing.

Potter placed his shoes underneath the bench, neatly, he noticed, and then slipped two different socks over the perforated socks he was wearing before hanging his just as worn backpack at the hook above the place he had been sitting on in front of the bench and the Potions Master could see a small sign with a red train pinned to the wall above the hook - a red train that strangely reminded him at the Hogwarts train, just without the steam and just without platform nine 3/4.

Curious as to what the boy would do now Snape went over to his desk, watching Potter from the corner of his eyes while he skimmed through a few papers, trying to figure out what Miss Adams had done with the children as he himself had absolutely no idea what to do with so young children. Neither could he teach them potions, nor basics about potions ingredients, or _anything_ else that came to his mind and surely Miss Davenport didn't expect him to – _play_ – with them.

He was Severus Snape, Potions Master and former Death Eater, for Merlin's sake, he didn't play with a horde of four year old children!

Potter meanwhile had taken an old picture book, had seated himself at one of the small tables, and now was skimming through the book, watching the pictures. He couldn't see what they were about, but the boy seemed to be very interested in them. The brat still had not asked who he were and why he were here instead of Miss Adams.

Upon watching the boy for a few minutes however, he could see that he looked at him from under his lowered eyelashes from time to time and he couldn't help feeling that it was a wary look, one that still spoke of mistrust and fear. And not only the gazes he threw at him spoke of mistrust and fear, but his entire appearance. The boy sat there, rigid, at the edge of the chair as if he kept himself ready to jump up and run from the room if necessary and he couldn't tell if the brat was trembling because he feared him or because he was cold.

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He didn't know who the man was and he didn't want him here either. He wanted Miss Adams here. But he as well knew that he couldn't have what he wanted, that he never could have what he wanted, that he had to take what he got. But honestly, this man looked so dark and so cold and uncaring, unfriendly, he nearly was sure that the man disliked him, even if he hadn't given an outward sign of his dislike away. But well, everyone disliked him, aside from Miss Adams and Miss Atkins, so there was nothing new here.

And why had the man known his name?

He could see the man watching him while he skimmed through the papers on Miss Adams' desk and again he wondered what he was doing here. Surely he couldn't be their new teacher. Miss Adams had said that they would get a new teacher, because after the holidays her baby would be born and so she wouldn't be able to teach for a year. But surely this man couldn't be their new teacher. A man wasn't supposed to be a pre-school teacher. A man could be a teacher on primary school, but not on pre-school. Only women were pre-school teachers.

And he wanted Miss Adams back.

With a sigh he got up and brought the book back to the shelf where he had taken it from. He had finished it, what meant that soon the other children would arrive.

And maybe Miss Adams, even if she never came that late, even if she normally came around the same time he arrived at pre-school. But maybe she would come, even if she had said she wouldn't, even if she was late today.

A look at the clock above the door showed him that soon the other children would arrive and inwardly the Potions Master prepared himself for facing the worst day of his life – the _first_ worst day of a many worst days to follow, actually.

Miss Davenport had shown him the room on Friday and even back then, without salvaging, screaming, sobbing, and kicking – _toddlers – _that picked their noses being present he had been horrified at the sight of the soft blue and green colours, the plush carpets here and there on the floor, and all the toys in the shelves and boxes, at the small tables and chairs that scattered the room and at the small mattresses that lingered along one wall of the bright and spacious room.

It simply was a room for small children – for _toddlers_ – and for women who loved to play with – _TODDLERS_, but not for grown men that were dark and cold and tough and had no liking for children in the first place. In other words – it was a place out of the depths of hell.

For a moment however, while he watched Potter bringing the book back to the shelf where he had taken it from and then sitting at one of the carpets, he noticed that the air within the room felt a bit different from Friday afternoon when Miss Davenport had shown him the raccoon room, almost as if – he actually frowned at that thought – almost as if it were welcoming the boy back after his long absence during the summer holidays, and closing his eyes, reaching out with his senses, he could feel the magic softly floating through the room, gently, barely noticeable, unsure and hesitant, as if daring something forbidden, and he knew that it was the boy's magic and that somehow the room reacted to it.

But that was ridiculous.

It was nearly impossible, as only a wizarding child's _nursery_ could react to said child's magic, only the nursery the child lived in, slept in, played in, had all his toys in and felt safe in would react to a wizarding child's magic. And yet – this room here did, this room here reacted to Potter's magic, as hesitant and careful as it was.

The door opened, startling him out of his thoughts, and he looked over, groaning inwardly.

Well, his time of freedom was up.

Miss Davenport entered the room, four children in tow, two girls and two boys.

"Good morning, Mr. Snape." The woman greeted and he inclined his head towards her. "I see you already have met Harry. These here are Amelie and Andrew Benson and Gabriel and Gabriela Montico. This here is Mr. Snape, your new teacher."

"Good morning, Mr. Snape." The two girls came over – _bouncing_ – and reached out their small hands and for a moment he actually looked at them shocked, before he had himself back under control and took the offered hands, shook them. The two girls ran away to the carpet Potter already sat at, sitting down also, chatting happoly, and the two boys came over, offering their hands too before running over to the carpet and sitting down, just in front of the two girls.

The door opened again and a boy came in, blond hair, brown eyes, small and skinny, looking shyly around the room, hesitating in the doorway when he saw him, Snape.

"Ah, come in David." Miss Davenport said. "This is Mr. Snape, your new teacher. There's no need to be shy here."

The boy did as he was told, coming over slowly and he too extended his hand – a bit shyer than the bouncing girls had done – and Snape took it, greeting the boy.

"David is a bit shy at times." Miss Davenport explained while the boy went over to the carpet and he could see the pattern. As it seemed, the children all met at that carpet in the morning. "It will get better a bit during the week, but coming Monday he will be back to being shy. However, I wanted to inform you that Mikey and Christine Creighton won't be here for another week, their mother called last Saturday, they are still in France."

Twenty minutes later, shortly before nine, he had nine children sitting at the carpet Potter had been sitting down at after bringing the book he had read back to the shelf and he stood in front of them, all of them looking up at him with expectant and curious eyes. He at once noticed that Potter sat alone in the back while the others were huddling together in pairs or in a threesome. Well, if they waited for him to sit down onto the carpet too, then they could wait for a very, very long time, because _that_ would be the _last_ thing he ever would do, never mind if his life depended on it.

However, all of them had extended their hands towards him for greeting him and as it seemed to be a common thing – whatever reason for – he had taken their small hands in return. He was not used to children offering him their hands. He surely would die of a shock if the first years did so at Hogwarts upon entering his potions classroom.

"Good morning, raccoons." He greeted the children, calling them raccoons in lack of a better word as he surely was not supposed to call them _toddlers_, of that he was sure, even if they were just that. And well – they were the raccoon class, weren't they?

An immediate "good morning, Mr. Snape" had him nearly annoyed and he barely was able to suppress a frustrated sigh.

"I am sure that some of you are wondering where Miss Adams is." He said, knowing that he had to begin somewhere, but not knowing where and how, and thus playing for time until he had a better idea.

"The stork brought her a baby and now she has to feed it and to clean it and to change its diapers." The girl that had been introduced to him as Isabelle Clayton piped up and he nearly sighed again. A little know-it-all, as it seemed.

"Nope." A boy, Warren Blacksmith, turned to the girl. "Dad said the stork brought her a little monster. And monsters surely won't wear diapers. Imagine a dragon or something like that wearing diapers."

The giggles and the laugher that followed this particular comment had Snape groaning inwardly and he sat onto the sideboard the carpet they were sitting at lay in front of. As it seemed, it would be a hell of a year and he cursed Dumbledore to said hell and back.

"You don't sit on the sideboards." The girl named Gabriella said, looking at him with large accusing eyes.

"I am sure Miss Adams told you this." Snape said, lifting his eyebrow at the child.

"Yes." The girl eagerly nodded her head.

"And what had been her exact wording, Miss Benson?" He asked.

"Uhm, I'm Gabriella." The girl said, "But you can call me Gabe."

"Alright, _Gabriella_." The Potions Master sighed. "What had been Miss Adam's exact wording, concerning sitting at the sideboards?"

"She always said 'you don't sit at the sideboards.'"

"Exactly." He growled. "_You_ don't sit at the sideboards. And why are you not supposed to sit at the sideboards?"

"Dunno." The girl answered and a few others too shrug their shoulders or shook their heads.

"Because you can fall off and hurt yourself." He drawled. "Can _I_ fall off the sideboard?"

There was a small pause but then the girl and several others of the children shook their heads.

"So I actually can sit on the sideboard, seeing that my feet still are touching the ground and seeing that I cannot fall off this piece of furniture."

"But that is not fair!" An identical boy called out, Gabriel Benson. "You're 'llowed and we're not!"

"Allowed." He corrected. "Does your mother allow you using the bread cutter for cutting slices of bread off a leaf?" He asked, his eyebrow lifted at the boy. Was he really supposed to argue with those little monsters – _toddlers_ – the entire day?

"Of course not!" The boy shook his head. "But I would like to. But she says it's too dang'rous."

"Dangerous." Snape couldn't help correcting the boy again. "And she is absolutely right. It would be too dangerous. Does your mother use the bread cutter?"

"Uhm … 'course!" The boy shrugged his shoulder.

"Ah, so your mother is allowed to use the bread cutter but you are not?"

Blinking at him the boy seemed to realize where this conversation led to and he just nodded while his sister snickered at him.

"So you see that there are things adults are allowed doing but children are not. And sitting at the sideboard – just as using the bread cutter – is one of those things. And now I expect you to be silent." He added when the boy opened his mouth to say something more about this particular subject. "Now, who wants to tell something about the holidays?" He asked and immediately they all began blabbering at the same time, jumbled and chaotically.

"Silence!" He growled darkly, his patience already running thin, and immediately they fell silent, blinking at him in shock, startled, some with large eyes.

'_Oh, you did this just well, frightening the little snots, just what you need, __nine panic attacks on your hands and all at the same time no less, very well done!'_ He thought, but no panic attack came and he sighed in relief, noticing that it indeed was a very large difference handing eleven year old children and four year old toddlers, and suddenly – as much as he despised teaching the first years – he wished he had them back instead of those pre-schoolers.

"One at a time and I wish you to raise your hands." He said.

Immediately seven hands went into the air and again he groaned. If only his students at Hogwarts would be so eager! However, he noticed that there were two children that had not raised their hands and one was Potter. He nearly growled. This boy surely would fit perfectly well into a Gryffindor class at Hogwarts, sitting there, salvaging, nearly sleeping, not paying attention and never answering a question.

The other boy who had not raised his hand was David and he reminded himself that Miss Davenport had said the boy was shy.

On the other hand – hadn't Miss Davenport said that Potter too was shy? That his self esteem was practically not existent?

"Gabriel." He said, pointing at the boy to the left on the carpet.

"We've been to the parks a lot, in London." He said. "And then we've been on the ferry, with dad, he works on a ferry, you know? And that was sooooo coooool. But the museums mum dragged us to, were just so boring."

"What did you see in the museums?" Snape asked, lifting his eyebrow. Of course a four year old would think a museum being boring.

"Just some stupid pictures and honestly, even _I _could draw them." The boy answered. "They weren't _that_ good!"

"You couldn't even name all the colours used in the pictures." Gabriella, the boy's twin sister piped up. "How would you draw them then?"

"I just would use other colours, dingbat!"

"Idiot!" The girl shot back immediately and Snape noticed hat they apparently were used to such behaviour between each other.

"You stop this name calling at once or you will find yourselves sitting in two different corners of the classroom." He growled at them and both fell silent. "Well, maybe you could prove your skills to your sister, Gabriel, and draw one of those pictures later today." He said, calling on another boy that sat beside Gabriel, the one that had entered the room together with the twins, Andrew.

"We've been to Spain." The boy said. "And there they really were strange, wearing large hats and they talked really oddly. The strangest thing however was that mum and dad talked the same way and I really sometimes was worried 'bout them."

"They just talked in a different language." Snape said.

"That's what mum and dad said too." The boy nodded. "But then I started to talk in a different lang'age too and they didn't understand and then they got angry and said I should talk normal."

"Language." Snape again corrected. "And which language did you chose to speak in?" Snape asked.

"Andjish." The boy answered and Snape sighed, not trying to imagine how that might have sounded. "It was cool anyway. We've been swimming a lot and I actually can swim now!"

"A very useful ability." Snape admitted. "Warren?"

Well, he definitely was glad that he was used to remember names, seeing that he had first years every new term, and he only hoped that he would remember them tomorrow still. If only those children were as old as were his first years at Hogwarts, he thought with an inward sigh.

"We've been to the registry office." The boy said, taking down his hand and smiling happily. "And it's really nice there. My sister married his boyfriend and now he isn't her boyfriend anymore because the registrar consummated the marriage with my sister and her boyfriend."

Groaning Snape closed his eyes for a moment at the boy's choice or words and for a moment he didn't know if he should laugh, if he should strangle Albus or if he should simply leave the room and go to Miss Davenport straight away to tell her that she should look for another teacher for her raccoon class.

Well, aside from the marriage during which the registrar … _consummated_ … the marriage with the boy's sister and her future husband – and apparently in front of the entire wedding party no less – Warren Blacksmith had been visiting his aunt and uncle on the seaside.

Amelie, Andrew's sister too had been to Spain, Gabriella, Gabriel's sister had been to the museums and the parks together with her brother and her mother as well but not at the ferry as she didn't like ferries, Isabelle Clayton had been to France where the Creighton siblings still resided. Eliot Adams had been visiting a farm on the countryside with his parents and David Arlington had stayed at home, playing with a few children from the neighbourhood that had visited him, only visiting his father every second weekend and Snape learned that his parents had divorced a year ago.

He'd had to ask the boy however what his holidays had been like, as the boy at the end of the other children's stories still had not raised his hand and the four year old had looked at him startled and shyly before answering his questions in a soft and hesitant voice.

"Mr. Potter … Harry?" He then asked, not able to contain himself from calling the boy by his surname before it was out. It definitely would take some time until he was used to calling the children, especially Potter, by their given names, something that was not done at Hogwarts. "Do you want to tell something about your holidays?"

Unlike David however, Potter only shook his head, looking at him startled and nearly begging, his pale cheeks colouring a bit as if he were ashamed about something.

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"I now want you all to go and get your favourite books and then I want you to come back to this carpet and to sit down – _quietly_, if this is possible." He said, taking a deep breath the moment the children got their eyes off him to go and take a book from the shelf – with a lot of shoving and shouting – and then he released it slowly. The first hour he had survived at least, only seven to go.

Potter was the first one back, cradling the old and worn book he had been looking at earlier to his chest, sitting back down at the carpet and he noticed that the boy still watched him warily, mistrust clearly written in those green eyes and for a moment he wished he could see the trust in them he had seen in those green eyes so long years ago, when the boy had been barely a week old, had looked at him for the first time. He however noticed that the boy was the quietest of the children, moving slowly, not shouting or screaming or laughing loudly and not shoving or pushing other children like the others did in their messy way to get the books from the shelf.

He waited a few more moments until all the little monsters were back at the carpet and then he took another deep breath. On to round two.

"Good." He started. "Now, what books did you chose?" He asked and immediately the children held up the books, showing them to him, starting to explain all at once what books they had chosen and he again groaned inwardly.

"Silence!" He growled again, and again the children watched him with large eyes, startled, and once more he sighed in frustration. Well, they would learn, he thought – _hoped_.

"Not all at once and simply put your hands up and then wait until I call on you." He said, _repeating himself_! "Amelie." He then called one of the children in the forefront and the girl showed her book.

"It's my fav'rite." She said. "It's 'bout kittens and I looove kittens. Can you read it to me?"

"Favourite." He for the fourth time corrected one of those children and he wondered if they hadn't learned how to properly articulate. But then – they were _toddlers_, weren't they? And one couldn't expect too much of _toddlers_. "Of course I _can_." Snape drawled. "I won't do so however. At least not now." He quickly added at the start of tears forming in the girl's eyes. Not that he minded making them crying, but he didn't want to get into trouble with the headmistress on his first day and surely he was not supposed to make them crying. "Right now I just want you to explain why this book is your favourite."

"Well …" The girl answered, still sniffling a bit. "It's 'bout kittens." She explained, as if it were clear and as if she couldn't understand why he even asked.

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**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in ****Cartons of milk**

_Snape's first day as a pre-school teacher, __part two._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	3. lunch boxes and milk cartons

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 4th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you already can imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains mentioning of child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in Cartons of milk**

_"Of course I can." Snape drawled. "I won't do so however. At least not now." He quickly added at the start of tears forming in the girl's eyes. Not that he minded making them crying, but he didn't want to get into trouble with the headmistress on his first day and surely he was not supposed to make them crying. "Right now I just want you to explain why this book is your favourite."_

_"Well …" The girl answered, sniffling a bit. "It's 'bout kittens." She explained, as if it were clear and as if she couldn't understand why he even asked._

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter ****three**

**Lunch boxes and milk cartons**

He had survived the morning. A morning with nine toddlers he now was responsible for, and he still was alive. So well – he surely would survive the lunch break and the afternoon as well.

The pre-schoolers had their playtime outside just an hour after the children from primary school, at twelve, while the older children were in the canteen, eating their lunch. This way the smaller children could have their break in peaceful silence, using the playground and the gardens on their own without being bullied by the older children that often used the swings or other playground equipments just to keep the smaller children from using them.

He'd had them exchanging their none-slipping socks with their shoes, taking their lunch boxes and then lining in front of the door, and then he had led them outside, startled at how orderly they behaved instead of running outside like a horde of wild hippogriffs. Well, and right now he was watching them closely. For a while they had been sitting at the benches, peacefully, eating their lunch, but now they were playing around on the playground for the next hour, until he was supposed to …

Well, he better did not think about _that_, he would think about that when the moment arrived – in barely an hour.

He had noticed that Potter had not eaten anything. He had kept his lunchbox close by but he had not even opened it. He also noticed that Potter was even smaller as were some of Miss Atkins' little ones that were outside too. The bigger ones were not, as it was Monday and it was their day to have their lunch in the canteen together with the children from primary school.

For a moment he wondered if the boy didn't have breakfast at home, as he always ate his lunch on his way to pre-school, but then he shook his head. Surely the boy would get breakfast at home.

But then – he had seen how thin that boy was. Thin sticks emerging from the sleeves of the overlarge t-shirt he was wearing, small and thin arms that looked rather _skeletal _instead of just thin. The boy's face was unhealthy thin and pale too and he tried to imagine James Potter as a four year old. He was sure that James Potter never had looked like this.

With a frown he remembered what the headmistress had said, that the boy was ill, and he wondered what kind of illness the boy suffered from. Just looking at the boy he could confirm the woman's words, Potter definitely _looked_ ill, but as he didn't know what illness it was the boy suffered from he would have to find out.

But wasn't the boy supposed to eat if he were so ill?

And _if_ the boy really was ill, then Dumbledore wouldn't be too pleased. He didn't know what exactly it was the headmaster kept from him, but he at least knew that the boy somehow would be important in later years, and as he – just as Dumbledore – knew that the Dark Lord was not actually dead, and that for surely would come back one day, he only could imagine that the boy would have something to do with the madman's final defeat.

And right now Potter just was still sitting on this bench, not playing on the swings, nor in the sandbox or with the other playground equipments. He simply seemed to be absolutely comfortable with just sitting there, watching the other children and for a moment Snape couldn't help thinking of an ill person resting from a strenuous morning.

But then he noticed that the boy didn't simply watch the other children, but that he watched them _longingly_ and he suddenly noticed that none of the other children played with the boy or even asked him to play with them, that in fact not only had Potter not spoken all morning, but that none of the other children had spoken to him either, and with a sigh he went over to the bench and sat beside the boy, noticing the flinch Potter gave away, but he ignored it.

"The swings are free, Potter." He growled, again not able to keep himself from using the boy's surname. "Harry." He corrected himself. "Why don't you join the other children in playing?"

Immediately the boy's eyes that had been longing while watching the other children, that had changed into fear when he had seated himself beside him, now changed again – into horror at the thought of playing around just like the other children and for a moment Snape was close to sneering at the boy, asking him if he felt above the other children, but then he again looked the boy over, again taking in the ill and starved appearance, the tired and frightened eyes, and he simply knew at that moment that whatever it was, it wasn't _that_.

The boy definitely _wanted_ to play with them, while at the same time he seemed to fear just this, whatever reason for.

"Have you eaten your lunch yet?" He asked, trying to start a conversation and to learn more, and the boy nodded, averting his eyes. Well, of course he averted his eyes, seeing that it was a blatant lie. The boy hadn't eaten his lunch, at least not during his lunch break like he was supposed to.

"What did you eat at breakfast?" He asked, sure that he wouldn't get an answer as he had not gotten one during all morning. The boy however thought otherwise than following his expectations.

"Me no hung'y, sir." He answered, and for a moment he actually was stunned, lifted his eyebrow at the boy to hide this fact. So, Potter _had_ a voice and could use it, even if it sounded tired, hesitant and frightened, hoarse and scratchy as if he hadn't used it in a very long time. And even if the boy's speaking was far behind anything else he had heard from the other children this morning so far. The boy spoke rather like a two year old than the five year old he was. What he however noticed was - Potter knew already manners, more manners than the other toddlers, being the first one who called him '_sir_'.

"Breakfast is an important meal, Harry." He said, not commenting on the boy's speech but narrowing his eyes at the brat. Why was his voice so throaty? Why sounded it so weak and tired? Why sounded it so hesitant and frightened? And why was the entire boy so hesitant and frightened in the first place? Why did he sound as if he hadn't used his voice in a very long time? Was this part of the illness Miss Davenport had mentioned?

And why did the boy speak rather like a two year old than a five year old?

"I sowwy." The boy answered, again averting his eyes, lowering them to the ground and Snape noticed that his feet dangled in the air, the boy being too small for his feet touching the ground. So – Potter even was able to apologize for something, even if he didn't understand why the boy would apologize for a comment he had made, or for not having had breakfast. It wasn't something any normal child would apologize for.

"There is no need to apologize for not having had breakfast." He simply said. "Just see that in future you do. And see that in future you wear a jacket or at least a pullover during the early morning hours. It is way too cold for running along in a t-shirt only in the mornings." He also wanted to tell the boy that he didn't have to come half an hour early, but surely that would not be in the boy's power to change. Surely a child that young would not leave the house without his aunt knowing about it, and surely the boy's aunt simply should send the boy later. She might be afraid that the boy would be late, but she should know that he had time until nine to come to pre-school. He still would be in time if she sent him half an hour later.

Well, the boy just nodded at him, murmuring another apology while he had his eyes trained on the worn shoes that dangled midair.

A tuck on the sleeve of his shirt caused him to look to his right to see one of his raccoons, Isabelle Clayton, standing beside him, tucking at his sleeve and performing a dance from one foot to the other.

"What is it, Isabelle?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow at the girl and forcing himself to stay silent about the girl tucking at his sleeve.

"I need the loo." The girl softly said, still dancing from foot to foot and he sighed.

"The door is open." He said. "I am sure you do know where to find the toilette."

"But I can't open the button." The girl said, nearly crying meanwhile and for a moment he … surly the girl did not expect him to open … surely that was not his job to …

Closing his eyes for another moment, and not for the first time today – _day one_ – he took a deep breath, counted to seven and then reopened them. With a sigh he extended his hand and opened the trouser button – just to realize that meanwhile the girl's Jeans was wet.

"Too late." The girl sniffed, blushing, nearly crying actually.

"I can see that." Snape sighed.

Well, luckily Miss Davenport had shown him the cupboard where he would find extra clothing, for such – _emergencies_, and with a third sigh he got up.

"Follow me." He said, forcing himself to _not_ growl at the girl and he walked towards the building.

A small hand sneaking its way into his had him nearly pulling his hand back startled, but he caught himself just in time, hoping that the moment would pass soon.

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Getting the children back inside and getting them to get off their shoes and on their none-slipping socks again had been just as easy as getting them outside. But now would come the really difficult part of the day.

Their nap – and he shuddered.

But well, seeing that all the children were ready on their mattresses, some of them sitting there, cross legged, others already laying there, already covered with their blankets, but all of them holding their cartons of milk, equipped with a straw, he sighed, knowing that it simply had to be done and his eyes wandered to Potter for a moment before he opened the book he had brought as he had known he would have to read something to them and then started reading.

"Once upon a time there lived a very unhappy young boy. And unhappy he was, because his father was dead and his mother had married another man, a widower with two sons already. His stepfather didn't like him one little bit and the man took every opportunity to show him that he wasn't liked at all. Soon after this marriage however, his mother had died as well, as she had been ill, and the boy's misery after that only increased tenfold. All the comfort, kind words, affection, care and loving touches were for his stepfather's sons only, while he only could watch with longing in his chest. And not just the kind words and love were for the two other boys only, but also clothes, a room, a bed and delicious food, in other words every home comfort a child needs were denied this boy and given to his stepbrothers only, while he had to watch, longing for a caring touch, trying everything to gain his stepfather's love."

Some of the children that had been sitting on the mattresses were laying down now, covering themselves with their blankets and the sound of milk being sucked through straws was the only sound that was heard at all while the children listened and he wished that his students at Hogwarts would regard his words with such interest.

Well, maybe he should read them fairy tales too? He just imagined his seventh year students being read a fairy tale by him and for a moment he nearly laughed at the image of their horrified faces.

"But, for the poor and unhappy boy, there was nothing left at all. No clothes aside from his stepbrothers' hand-me-downs that were stained and often had holes in them. There were no lovely dishes, nothing but old and cold scraps they didn't like to eat anymore. There were no nice words, no rest and no comfort. The boy had to work hard all day, cutting firewood, preparing the meals, washing the stepfather's and the stepbrothers' clothes and cleaning the house, and only when evening came was he allowed to curl up on the floor by the fire in the kitchen and the boy used to spend long hours dreaming of a better time, dreaming of someone coming and taking him away, dreaming of one day being free from this miserable life."

Some of the children already had their eyes closed while others still were drinking their milk through the straws. He however noticed Potter laying there, his eyes closed as well, but the small shoulders were shaking slightly while his breathing was uneven and hitched, even if he was perfectly silent and he was sure that the boy was trying to hide the fact that he was crying and he wondered why the boy would cry over a children's tale.

But then – maybe he should not have chosen one with a boy that had lost his parents just as Potter had.

"I wished I could run away. He one evening said to a small mouse sitting on its hind legs, running its fore legs over its small face, cleaning itself. But I can't because I don't know how to care for myself out there. You are quite wrong. The mouse softly said, startling the boy, you have something neither of your stepbrothers ever will have and that is intelligence. And it was quite true. Because the boy, as shy and as poorly dressed in his dusty gray rags he was, he was a very intelligent and clever boy, even cunning when he needed to get away from a beating for something he hadn't even done. While his stepbrothers, no matter how impressive and well-dressed they were, were still very clumsy, lazy and stupid, and as they never had to do anything and left all the work to the boy, they always would be like this, they never would learn to work and to think on their own."

Some of the children's fingers loosened around their cartons of milk, falling asleep and astonished he watched the other children's eyes dropping. Only Potter remained still sobbing without a sound, cradling the carton of milk closely to him as if he were afraid someone would take it away from him.

"One day, a bearer from court arrived at the house, inviting them to the yearly junior hunt the king would hold in three days time and fine new suits were delivered to the two stepbrothers, ordered by their father as his own sons would be going to go to this hunt. The boy didn't even dare asking if he could go to the hunt too, for he knew very well what the answer to that would be: You? You will be staying at home to cut more firewood, to scrub the floors and to clean your stepbrothers' rooms. They surely will come home tired and very sleepy from this hunt. Well, knowing that he could be glad if he wouldn't even been beaten upon such a question of him, he sighed, accepting his fate as it was and simply going on with preparing something to eat for his family."

He had thought he would have to put up a fight to get those bratty imbeciles to take their nap, but apparently he didn't have to, as meanwhile most of them actually were asleep, the rest were about to fall asleep and only Potter still was wide awake as it seemed.

"I wished I could go to this hunt too and to prove that I am worthy of father's pride too instead of just existing as a dirty servant. The boy murmured while cutting slices from a leaf of cheese. Spotting the mouse he had seen since a few evenings now he gave a small smile and then broke a small piece from one of the cheese slices and he knelt onto one knee, slowly reaching out the piece of cheese to the small animal. The mouse took the piece of cheese from his fingers, and nibbling on it the animal regarded him with a thoughtful look of its black eyes. And then suddenly, something amazing happened. In the kitchen, where the boy was sitting all by himself, preparing something to eat for his family, there was a soft glower, a soft humming, and the mouse changed into a grown man. Don't be alarmed, Arthemius, said the man, using the boy's name. I have watched this house for a while now, and I have listened to the words spoken in this house too. And so I know you would love to go to the junior hunt. And so you shall!"

The last of the children's fingers had slackened, released their cartons of milk while falling asleep and Snape nearly smirked. Only Potter left. Well, he would continue reading another passage anyway, just to ensure that they were sleeping deeply. So, lowering his voice, he continued.

"How can I? Arthemius asked, startled. I have no proper clothes and I neither have a horse for the hunt, nor a bow. The servants will be the first ones to turn me away! And if they won't, then the other boys will! The man only smiled at that and with a flick of his wrist the boy found himself wearing a simple but very comfortable and fitting suit that would go well with the hunt, including a bow and a quiver filled with arrows. Now, that we have solved the issue of your clothes and a bow, the man said, we just need to get you a horse. Surely you can't run along on your feet behind the deer while all the other children will be on horseback today. So, quickly, come outside! He ordered and of course the boy quickly obeyed, leaving the house through the back door and stepping into the back yard. Then the man watched him with a strange look of care and longing and said: You just will have to remember, you will have to be back before darkness, because the magic will be undone with the last rays of sunlight. The boy promised to be back before the last ray of sunlight and then the man smiled at him and taking a deep breath he turned into a large and strong black horse. The boy hardly could believe his eyes and he gently ran his fingers over the soft fur of the horse which the boy then mounted."

Well, even Potter's breathing had evened out meanwhile, his fingers loosing their grip on the carton of milk he had been cradling to his chest as if it would keep him alive and with a smirk he silently closed the book, glad that this was over and glad that he had an hour or so until the little monsters – sorry, _toddlers_ – were back in the world of the living – and hoping that none of the children would ask then what had become of Arthemius or how the tale had ended.

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And again his eyes wandered over to Potter.

The boy had not covered himself with the blanket as had the other children, but had cradled the blanket close to him in his sleep and again he noticed how thin the boy was, shivering slightly with cold even if it wasn't cold in the classroom at all. Walking over he – with a sigh of frustration – knelt down onto one knee and took one of the edges of the blanket, drawing the plain, white fabric over the skinny form, again wondering what illness the boy might suffer from. It surely was a long lasting one as it severely had affected his growth and as he seemed to suffer from it since at least a year now.

Noticing a small sign on the blanket he took a closer look and upon reading 'St Catherin, pre-school' he narrowed his eyes, looking over at the blankets the other children were covered with. They all had colourful blankets, some with animals on them, some with cars on them, others simply holding different colours and reaching over to the blanket Andrew was covered with he turned the edges, inspecting them, reading 'Andrew Benson'.

Inspecting a few other blankets he learned that all the children apparently had brought the blankets and matching pillows from their homes, aside from Potter who used a plain white blanket and pillow that apparently belonged to the pre-school and again he frowned, his mind racing.

So – there seemed to be more Petunia didn't provide the boy with. A blanket and a pillow for the naps at pre-school, for example. But honestly, how hard could it be to give the boy a blanket and a pillow to take with him to pre-school? And a stuffed toy? All the other children were holding stuffed toys in their arms, cradling them to their chests in their sleep. Not so Potter. Did the boy even have a stuffed toy?

Seeing that Potter wore clothes that were miles too large for him, with holes and stains on them, he suddenly realized that – no, probably the boy didn't have a stuffed toy, and that – yes, probably it indeed seemed to be too hard for Petunia, giving the boy a blanket and a pillow to take with him to pre-school so that he could have a restful nap like the other children. He also suddenly realized that – just maybe, the boy had been crying not only because of the boy in the story had lost his parents, just like him, but because of the boy in the story had the same stained and perforated hand-me-downs – as had he.

Noticing the carton of milk from Andrew leaking milk through the straw and dropping onto the floor beside the mattress the boy lay on, he sighed and with a flick of his wand, hidden beneath his sleeve, he labelled the milk cartons with the children's names and then floated them over to one of the tables, while he allowed his mind to work over what he knew up to now.

Potter had been half an hour early this morning, dressed in atrocious clothes that were the hand-me-downs from his cousin. He didn't have breakfast and so had eaten his lunch on his way to the pre-school – that at least was what he thought had happened, accordingly to what Miss Davenport had told him on Friday before the staff meeting. Potter had been very silent throughout the morning, never moving much, never laughing or even smiling and he had not been playing with the other children but sitting alone during lunch break.

Later he had learned that the boy actually _was _able to speak, but that his voice was hollow, throaty, weak and tired, frightened, as if he rarely used it, and that his speech in general was far behind the others, rather that of a two year old than of the five year old he actually was.

And then, when he had handed out the milk cartons, the boy actually had looked away, longingly, sadly, and he nearly had looked as if being close to tears. Potter seemed to be startled when he had handed one of those blasted cartons of milk to the boy too, had looked at him with such a deep gratefulness in those damn green eyes of his, he – Snape – nearly had hitched a breath and in this moment he had known that the boy actually wanted those blasted cartons of milk not only so he wouldn't be left out but because he _liked_ this milk, that he actually _wanted_ them desperately, _longing_ for them like a person dying of thirst would long for a glass of water.

And now those blankets, pillows and stuffed toys, and somehow he couldn't shake off the thought that Petunia Dursley didn't only _not_ provide the boy with proper clothing, but with not enough food as well. Maybe Miss Davenport had been right, and it actually _was_ neglect and he wondered if it wasn't an illness the boy suffered from at all, but weakness and exhaustion caused by this neglect.

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**

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To be continued**

**Next time in ****Cartons of milk**

_The grocery, shopping and __a few words_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	4. the grocery and a lunch box

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

March, 18th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you already can imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

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**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_Snape nearly had hitched a breath and in this moment he had known that the boy actually wanted those blasted cartons of milk not only so he wouldn't be left out but because he liked this milk, that he actually wanted them desperately, longing for them like a person dying of thirst would long for a glass of water._

_And now those blankets, and somehow he couldn't shake off the thought that Petunia Dursley didn't only not provide the boy with proper clothing, but with enough food as well. Maybe Miss Davenport had been right, and if actually was neglect and he wondered if it wasn't an illness the boy suffered from at all, but weakness and exhaustion caused by this neglect. _

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter ****four**

**The grocery**** and a lunchbox**

Leaving number seven, Snape drove to the next grocery, close to Privet Drive. He was here in Little Whinging since Friday now and he needed a few things to be restocked. So he would do just this, buying bread and milk and eggs in a muggle grocery. Something he had not thought he ever would do again. But then – he also never had thought he ever would drive a car again.

Not that he ever had thought that he would teach on a muggle pre-school, or at any muggle school for that matter – yet here he was and he had to admit that his life had taken quite a few turns. For a moment he again cursed Albus Dumbledore for throwing him back to a muggle life he had banned from his thoughts for a long time, but then he sighed. Cursing the headmaster would bring him nowhere and he knew that Dumbledore had had no other chance than sending _him_.

He had lived with a muggle parent, as unpleasant as this muggle parent had been, had lived in a muggle environment, as unpleasant as this muggle environment had been and he knew how to act as a muggle, as unpleasant as this thought was to him. So in the end he would do what he always had done, acting the spy he was, just in a different way this time.

Parking the black Voyager he silently thanked the headmaster that he at least had _not_ gotten him a pink car with yellow rabbits on the doors and the front lid, the old fool would have chosen that kind of car definitely for himself, and he got off the car, softly throwing the door shut. At least he had as much comfort as possible while acting the spy for Dumbledore again.

Entering the grocery he for a moment considered taking a trolley, but then he discarded the thought with a disgusted sneer on his face. He surely would not do so! He didn't need much anyway and that what he needed, he easily could carry in his hands. So he entered the grocery and for a moment he hesitated. Not because he was unsure, but because he again realized how long it had been since he last had entered one.

Quickly striding through the corridor he took a package of eggs from a shelf, then, a few yards further, he took two cartons of milk, his thoughts wandering to one green eyed boy he had in his pre-school class, a green eyed boy that had eyed the smaller version of these milk cartons with a longing gaze until he had handed one to him as well, his eyes growing large, becoming nearly teary. He knew that the boy had been really grateful for the milk, not like the other kids barely acknowledging what was given to them or that it was given to them in the first place as it simply was normal to them.

And standing there, regarding those cartons of milk he held in his own hand now, the larger versions from the ones he had handed out this afternoon, with a questioning gaze as if the item could give him an answer, he again wondered why.

Why had the boy been so longing in the first place? Why had the boy been so startled and then grateful for what had been given to him? Why had Potter been so protective over his carton of milk? Nearly cradling it to his chest with his small and thin fingers? And why was Potter so small and thin to begin with? What kind of illness did the boy suffer from? And was it really an illness in the first place? If yes, would he recover from it? Or would he have to bring Dumbledore news that his golden boy would die because of an illness?

A trolley bumping into him startled him out of his thoughts and he turned, a sharp word on his lips, but then he lifted his eyebrow upon finding himself face to face with one Petunia Dursley nee Evans, sister to Lily and aunt to the boy that had just been on his mind, Harry Potter.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." The woman smiled a false sweet smile at him and he noticed that Petunia hadn't changed at all since he last had seen her. She looked older, yes, but her face still was the same as was her figure – and her overly sweet clothes.

"Never mind." He answered calmly while feeling anything else than calm. "Nothing has happened."

"That's really kind of you." The woman said, her false smile still on her thin lips. "I haven't seen you here before."

"I have just arrived at Little Whinging." He answered, not sure if he should be annoyed that the woman tried to start a conversation with him or if he should be glad for the chance to learn more. But then his spy-instincts took over. "I have rented number seven, Private Drive, due to a new job."

"Number seven!" The woman's smile grew now. "I'm living at number four with my family. Dursley, Petunia Dursley is my name."

"Snape." Snape introduced himself.

"What job did you take, if I may ask?" The woman inquired.

"I am the new pre-school teacher." He said, wondering if Potter already had told her about him, wondering why there were not thousand bells ringing in Petunia's mind upon hearing his name. Well, maybe the woman still held no brain in this head of hers?

"The new pre-school teacher?" The woman asked and he knew that the boy had _not_ told her anything. "I never would have imagined a male being the new pre-school teacher."

"A rare thing, I know." He answered. "Dursley … does it happen, that you are Harry's aunt then, Mrs. Dursley?"

The woman's smile faded at once and her face became rather sour.

"I am." She curtly said.

"In this case I do have your nephew in my class, Mrs. Dursley." He said.

"So? Do you?" The woman snapped at him and immediately he could feel hate and anger radiating off the woman, but not hate and anger directed at him, but at the boy they were talking about. "I do hope that the boy behaves."

"Do not worry about that, Mrs. Dursley." He answered, forcing a smile on his face himself. "I am sure I will be able to handle those children – even your nephew. I take it that the boy is a handful?"

"Quite a handful." Petunia Dursley said, back to normal and Snape couldn't help feeling as if she for a moment had feared he would take the boy's side. But now that he had asked his last question the woman seemed to be confirmed that he too disliked the boy. "Sometimes I question myself over taking the boy in four years ago. But well, we couldn't leave him on the doorsteps, now, could we?"

"On the doorsteps?" He asked, halting at the small counter that was the bakery.

"Yes, on the doorsteps." The woman confirmed. "He has been dumped on our doorsteps after his parents had died in a car crash when he was just a year old and we just didn't have the heart to leave the boy out there. So of course we took him in, but he only had caused trouble ever since."

"Mrs. Dursley had been here first." He addressed the woman behind the counter that looked at him expectantly, not ready to end this conversation so easily. Yet – he surely would not wait for her to finish her shopping like a good dog after he had gotten his bread and somehow he just _knew_ that the woman would wait while he got his bread after her. So, Dumbledore had dropped the boy on their doorsteps? Not a very responsible thing to do in the first place and he was quite surprised, if not startled even, he had to admit. It didn't sound like Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. But then – on the other hand – Dumbledore always had been a fool and if he thought it over a second time, then yes, it actually did sound like a stunt Dumbledore would pull.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Snape." Petunia Dursley smiled at him before turning to the young woman from the bakery section. As it seemed, he was back in her graze. "If you just pack me a leaf of white bread, dear, and three rolls, please. My Duddykins does love them _so much_. I think I will have them for tea this afternoon."

Narrowing his eyes slightly the Potions Master noticed that the woman asked for three rolls only, not for four and he wondered who of them would get none, surely not Duddykins, as he loved them so much.

"Of course in the morning my Dudley prefers corn flakes." Petunia Dursley turned back towards him, Snape, while the 'dear' packed her bread and the rolls. "He's in Miss Weldon's class and he is such a good boy."

"I did not see Dudley today as Miss Weldon's class has lunch in the canteen on Mondays." Snape answered, already imagining a sweet little boy in a sweet little suit and a sweet little backpack – while inwardly groaning.

"A leaf of wholemeal bread, please." He said when the woman behind the counter looked at him questioningly again. "I am however sure that I will meet your son tomorrow during the lunch break, Mrs. Dursley."

"Oh, you will love him." The woman said excitingly, just like he had expected waiting after she had packed her bread and rolls into her trolley. "And he is such an intelligent boy too. You _do _have to come over for tea on Saturday, Mr. Snape, so you'll get to know my Duddykins and my husband."

"Of course, Mrs. Dursley." He answered, taking his bread and walking on to the cash desk, inwardly groaning again at the prospect of having to visit the woman on Saturday, but glad that he would get another chance of finding out more. "I would like to. What time would you deem appreciate for tea?"

"Oh, let's say, at four." Petunia Dursley answered, trailing behind, not leaving her eyes off him. "I'll make an apple pie then. I hope you do like apple pie?"

"That would be very convenient of you, Mrs. Dursley." He said, paying his things and packing them into a brown paper bag. "Until Saturday afternoon then, and I do thank you for the invitation."

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Coming home, to what he now would have to call his home however, his thoughts still occupied with a scrawny little boy named Harry Potter, he threw the jacket over the backrest of the sofa in his living room before he went into the kitchen to place the shopping bag on the table.

So – another few pieces he could add to the puzzle that was Harry Potter. Petunia Dursley, his aunt, definitely hated the boy, or at least disliked him a great deal, while she preferred her own son. For a moment he wondered if it was because the boy was a wizarding child. He actually did remember the woman, even if she seemingly didn't remember him – what he was glad for – and he remembered that the woman had hated Lily for being a witch and that she had hated him for being a wizard.

At least it would explain a lot.

And then – Dumbledore had abandoned the boy on the Dursleys' doorsteps. Another piece in the puzzle that was Harry Potter. How could the headmaster have left the boy on his aunt and uncle's doorstep? A one year old toddler? For an entire night on October? November actually? He remembered that Halloween night and he remembered that it had been a cold night. And the headmaster hadn't even known if the Dursleys would accept the boy! And without having someone to watch the child during the night until the aunt had found him in the morning? Anything could have happened to that child. He could have been abducted! Death Eaters could have come to kill the boy during the night as the wards only would have been activated the moment the Dursleys had taken him in, what had been in the morning, not during the night!

With an incredulous shake of his head he put the milk and the eggs in the fridge and the bread into a cupboard above the kitchen counter. He didn't understand the headmaster's carelessness and irresponsibility.

He had wanted to ask Petunia to send the boy half an hour later to pre-school, and with a jacket. But then he had abandoned the thought, knowing that it wouldn't do well to get on the wrong side of the woman before he had found out more about Potter's home life. And meanwhile he definitely was sure that there _was_ something wrong with the boy's home life. He actually doubted that it was simply an illness the boy suffered from, but right-out neglect.

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Tuesday morning came too soon for his liking and just like the morning before he wanted to do nothing else than pulling the blanket over his head and to ignore the fact that he would have to play nurse maid for nine toddlers for another day. He might have survived yesterday, yes, but his dignity had started to crack on each and every corner.

Not to mention the fact that he knew – just because he had survived yesterday, didn't automatically mean that he would survive today as well.

But of course – just as yesterday – he got up and prepared for the day, took a shower, made himself a cup of coffee and preparing himself a lunch. He normally wouldn't do so, but some of the children had asked why he hadn't eaten lunch like they had and so well … he would have to bring a lunch too, as it seemed, just to avoid awkward questions. He wasn't here for simply teaching, he was here because he had to find out what was wrong with Potter after all, and so he had to adapt, never mind if he liked it or not.

For a moment he hesitated, but then he prepared an extra sandwich and packed an extra pear and yoghurt into his bag, not really knowing _why_ exactly he did this. It wasn't as if Potter hadn't anything to eat as he ate his lunch on his way to pre-school. But somehow the boy's starved and skeletal appearance wouldn't get out of his mind.

Taking another sip of his coffee, knowing that he had enough time still, he furrowed his brows, wondering if … but then he placed the cup on the table, grabbed his bag and having made his mind up he left the house early, watching number four. He would walk today, and he would watch Potter on his way to pre-school.

It didn't take long until the front door of number four opened, Petunia harshly shoving the small boy outside, not caring that the child nearly stumbled down the front stairs, and throwing the door close. The boy stood there for a moment, his backpack cradled to his chest and sadly looking at the door, but then he turned and simply walked on – the Potions Master following him, silently and unseen.

Potter walked on, slowly, hesitantly, his small legs taking awkward little steps and he only stopped when crossing the street, looking to his left, to his right and then to his left again, once more looking to his right, to his left, and one last time to his right, before finally leaving the pavement and running over the street as quickly as his little legs could run, until he had reached the other side.

Stupid muggles! Didn't they teach the boy that he shouldn't run across the street? What if he stumbled and fell? By the time he were back on his feet a car easily could have come its way and if the driver didn't pay attention to little children falling on the street, he would knock the boy over.

But the boy had not fallen.

He just rested for a moment when arriving at the other side, gasping for breath, and then he continued walking, taking his awkward little steps and there was no other pause until the boy had reached St. Catherine and sat down onto the steps, tiredly and definitely freezing again while wearing a t-shirt only, just like the day before.

Well, the boy had _not_ eaten his lunch this morning on his way. So – either he never had done so in the first place and Petunia just never had bothered to pack the boy something for lunch – what seemed ridiculous to him as the boy _had_ his lunch box in his backpack, or the boy had obeyed and done as he had asked of him, had eaten breakfast so he wouldn't be hungry on his way to pre-school.

"Good morning, Potter." He said upon climbing the steps and taking the keys to the yellow door that would lead inside the pre-school wing out of his jacked. For a moment he wanted to give away a comment about the boy being early again, but then he kept silent. He had seen that the boy had not left the house on his own, but had been shoved – _thrown_ – out of the house by Petunia, most probably like the day before. And just like the day before Potter awkwardly scrambled to his feet and retreated a step, watching him warily.

One thing however he noticed this morning – Potter had been the only child so far that had not given him his hand for a greeting. And he hadn't done so yesterday evening either, when leaving pre-school, to say good bye. Well, he meanwhile knew why the children gave their hands.

It simply was, so the teachers could greet each child, could see each child off and could acknowledge the presence of each child. A child that gave him his hand in the morning was definitely present and so he knew for sure which children were already there and which children were still missing. And a child that gave him his hand in the evening was definitely leaving and so he would know for sure which children were still there and which children had already left.

So he simply extended his hand, offering the boy a greeting, and after a moment during which the boy watched him startled, frightened even, the small hand slowly was lifted and took his, Snape's. He gave a quick nod of approval and then finally opened the door and entered the building, holding open the door and after another wary gaze from those green eyes that lacked of the trust he had seen in them so long ago, Potter then followed him inside, slipping into the classroom where he exchanged his shoes for his different none-slipping socks before the boy – just like the day before – took a book from the shelf, the same old and worn picture book he noticed, and then sat at one of the small tables, slowly turning pages while looking at the pictures.

He watched Potter for a while, wondering what had happened that this deep trust the boy had shown towards him as a barely a week old baby was gone now, replaced by a just as deep mistrust, but then he made his mind up and he went over to the boy, sat onto the small table so he wouldn't be as intimidating as he normally preferred to be while standing. The brat was scared and insecure enough as it was. But well, he better did this now in privacy than later when all the other children were present.

"Harry." He said to gain the boy's attention and the boy immediately looked up at him, startled, scared, his eyes large and – even if he knew that the boy had done nothing wrong as he had watched him since he had left his aunt's house – he looked guilty.

"Would you please bring me your backpack?" He quietly asked and for a moment he could see different emotions crossing the boy's face. Fear, horror, the wish to simply refuse, fear again, defeat and then once more fear before the boy averted his eyes and slowly got up, walking over to the wardrobe where the children kept their shoes, their jackets and their backpacks. He took his bag from the hook and just as slowly brought it back to the table where he, Snape, still waited, the green eyes still not daring to look at him, hesitating another moment, the backpack pressed tightly to his chest as if defending it, or as if to use it as a shield.

Wordlessly he simply reached out his hand, demanding the boy's worn rucksack and slowly Potter handed it over to him, not daring to sit back onto the chair he had been sitting at earlier.

"Sit back down, Harry." Snape said while opening the zipper. "There is no need to stand here. I only want to have a look at your lunchbox. I surely will not bite you."

Hesitantly the boy obeyed, sitting onto the edge of the chair as if being ready to jump up at any moment, at any sign of danger, and he could see the green eyes watching him warily and hidden underneath his lashes while he pulled out the boy's green box where a sandwich or anything similar was supposed to be in. But upon opening said box – there was nothing inside, just like the day before and for some strange reason his insides grew cold.

The boy had _not_ eaten his lunch on his way to pre-school, he knew that because he had watched the boy on his entire way, and he surely had not done so yesterday, nor all the days before.

"Did you have breakfast this morning?" He asked, his voice sounding harsher than he had intended and the boy flinched before shaking his head, his eyes still averted while secretly watching his, Snape's, hands warily beneath his lowered eyelashes.

Getting off the table, ignoring the fact that he startled the boy, he went over to his desk and took the yoghurt from his bag, opening it and taking a teaspoon from the box beside the cups they had for tea he went back to the boy, placed both in front of him with a short "eat this".

He knew how to read the facial expressions of children, never mind if they were guarded or not, and he immediately knew that Potter didn't hesitate taking the spoon and eating the blasted yoghurt because he didn't like it or because he didn't want it, or because he wasn't hungry, but because he was scared.

With a sigh he pulled one of the small chairs away from the table so he could sit onto the small furniture more comfortably and then he – yes, his dignity just got another crack – sat down onto a small children's chair. He just knew that he somehow had to be less intimidating and if sitting onto a children's chair did the trick, then well, he would do so.

"I told you to eat this yoghurt." He said. "I will not have you being hungry all morning and neither will you have to pay it back nor will it be held against you later. I actually brought it because I somehow knew that I would find your lunchbox empty and do not try to tell me that you had eaten your lunch on your way here – as you have not. And now eat!"

The boy hesitantly took the spoon and started eating, uncertainty written all over his small and thin face, his eyes darting towards him every now and then while his entire body language screamed fear.

He watched Potter taking a spoonful of the yoghurt and he frowned upon the eyes that grew large, that held something he simply wasn't able to name, something akin to being scared, startled, surprised – before the green eyes even closed momentarily, as if it were the first time in his life ever that he had tasted yoghurt. And considering that Petunia denied the boy a simple carton of milk, it just might be that he never before had one.

"I also have brought an extra sandwich and a pear for your lunch break later and I will pack it into your backpack now, before the other children arrive so you won't have to answer awkward questions." He said. "I expect you to eat them during lunch break."

Well, as it seemed it had been the wrong approach and the teaspoon lay beside the yoghurt cup before he even had finished his sentence, the boy looking startled and right now not just scared but right out panicky while he shook his head frantically. For a moment he wanted nothing else than snapping at the boy, but then he reminded himself that it was a five year old child he had in front of him and that the child simply was scared – whatever reason for.

"What is it, child?" He asked, trying to keep his frustration out of his voice.

"Me sowwy, sir." The boy choked out, a strangled sob nearly escaping him. "Me no want be a bodew."

Knowing that those words, or rather the word _'bother'_, Potter barely was able to say, surely didn't come from a five year old normally Snape ran his hand over his face and closed his eyes for a moment and it was clear to him where the boy had learned it from.

"Continue eating." He simply ordered. "Your aunt won't pack you a lunch, will she?" Snape asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The boy simply shook his head while taking the teaspoon and starting to eat again, and the thought that a five year old child knew exactly that he would not get lunch – after he had not gotten breakfast either – bothered him more than he dared to admit.

"Good." He said upon noticing that the boy obeyed. "Your aunt won't provide you with breakfast either, will she?" He then asked and again the boy shook his head, still not daring to look at him.

"Does she at least provide you with dinner?" He asked, nearly fearing the answer and the boy shrugging his shoulder had him nearly seething. Not because the boy shrugged his shoulders at his question in the first place, but because he knew that the boy just was too ashamed to admit that he didn't get dinner either, or at least not always.

"That is no answer, child." He said. "I do wish to know if your aunt provides you with at least dinner."

"Domedimes." The boy softly said, nearly whispered. "Dedens."

"On what?" He inquired, this time really having trouble to keep the seething anger out of his voice. He had been right and it wasn't any illness the boy suffered from, but the result of neglect, of nothing else than starvation, and of starvation that had taken place for a long time as the boy's growth was affected to a point where a five year old boy looked like a three year old skeleton.

Again the boy only shrugged his shoulders, pale cheeks turning red with embarrassment.

"On what, Mr. Potter?" He asked again, his voice allowing no sidesteps or refusal.

"If me do showes in dime." The boy whispered, close to tears now.

"What are your chores?" He asked.

The boy however wasn't able to continue this conversation, that much was clear, crying openly now, and the Potions Master gave a frustrated sigh away, knowing that he wouldn't get any more answers out of the boy right now and knowing that soon the other children would arrive. He would deal with that later and taking the empty yoghurt cup and the teaspoon to the sink he went over to his desk, took the extra sandwich he had brought, the pear, and packed both into the boy's backpack.

For a moment he couldn't keep himself from reaching out his hand and running it through the boy's unruly hair, narrowing his eyes at the startled and frightened flinch the boy gave away and the thought of more than just neglect gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.

"Try to calm yourself." He quietly said. "The other children will arrive soon and I am sure you want to be calm by then. It will be no bother to me providing you with something to eat, so do not worry about that."

He watched the boy giving away a hesitant nod for a moment, a defeated nod, and then he got up to hang the backpack back onto the hook on the wardrobe, underneath the picture with the red train, leaving the boy to himself to go on looking at the picture book, or pretending doing so, allowing him to get himself back under control before the other children would arrive and he just continued watching the boy closely, skimming through the picture book while he went back to his desk, inwardly seething with fury and rage.

Who would have thought? He, Severus Snape, seething with barely controllable anger and fury on behalf of a Potter!

But what he had learned just a few minutes ago was just – it was enough to cause everyone to seethe with anger, never mind what. Potter was a five year old child that neither got breakfast nor lunch and even dinner he had to work for and got only if he managed his chores. He never had been a friend of children lazing around and he always had thought that a child should have a few chores, but even _he_ knew that one couldn't expect too much from a five year old, and even _he_ knew that surely no child was meant to work for his food in the first place. And that particular child was already dangerously thin, and he now knew wherefrom.

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**

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To be continued**

**Next time in ****Cartons of milk**

_Snape trying to __manage day two as a pre-school teacher._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	5. Dudley Dursley and Harry Potter

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

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**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_But what he had learned just a few minutes ago was just – it was enough to cause everyone to seethe with anger, never mind what. Potter was a five year old child that neither got breakfast nor lunch and even dinner he had to work for and got only if he managed his chores. He never had been a friend of children lazing around and he always had thought that a child should have a few chores, but even he knew that one couldn't expect too much from a five year old and even he knew that surely no child was meant to work for his food in the first place. And that particular child was already dangerously thin, and he now knew wherefrom. _

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter ****five**

**Dudley Dursley and Harry Potter**

It was the second day of hell, but honestly, right now he didn't mind. Right now he even was glad that Dumbledore had sent him here and he would take the boy to number seven this evening instead of allowing him in at number four. He also would inform headmistress Davenport that she would have to look for a new teacher for the raccoon class and as soon as the older woman had one, he would leave, would go back to Hogwarts and he would take Potter with him.

He didn't know what to do with the boy as soon as he had him at Hogwarts, but he surely wouldn't allow him back at the Dursleys.

If the boy would have had no breakfast only, or if he wouldn't get a lunch for pre-school only, if it were those blasted cartons of milk Petunia refused to pay for the boy only, if it were the chores he had to do only, the worn and stained hand-me-downs that were too large for the boy or the missing jacket, the missing blanket and the missing stuffed toy only, the fact that he looked tired and exhausted even in the morning, but it wasn't only one of these things. It was all of these things together and he couldn't allow this to continue, not if he didn't want the boy's life at risk.

"How many toys do you have there, Isabelle?" He asked the girl, forcing his thoughts back to the present as soon as the children came back to the carpet they had been sitting at just like the day before and noticing that Isabelle carried two kittens instead of one as he had asked of them – to get one toy each and then to come back to the carpet.

The girl looked down at the two kittens she held in her arms, looked up at him with a begging gaze that surely would have had any other teacher's heart melting, and upon looking back at the kittens in her arms she hitched out a low "two" between starting sobs.

"And how many toys did I tell you to get?" Snape asked, not really impressed by the starting sobs nor by the begging gaze.

The girl hitched another breath, sobbing a "one" and regarded him with another begging gaze. "But …" She then said. "But … then the other one is all alone."

"If you feel alone then call 99957799." Warren Blacksmith piped up. "A grip to your phone and we will find the perfect partner for you."

"Is there anything you do not have an advertisement comment about, Warren?" Snape asked, meanwhile annoyed at the boy's constant repeating of one or another advertisement.

"Yes, but I just like advertisements." The boy said, grinning at him.

"Well, then you can watch it whenever you want, but …"

"Can we have lunch inside today so I can watch it during lunch today?" Warren asked hopefully and Snape groaned.

"No, you surely can not watch it during lunch." The Potions Master answered, with a sigh. "We will have lunch outside and enjoy the sun and you can watch your precious advertisement whenever you want while _being at home_ and I definitely would prefer it if you keep yourself from repeating those comments here in class. Isabelle, just give me the second kitten." He then turned his attention back to the girl that had sat down at the carpet, probably hoping he had forgotten that she had taken two toys instead of the required one. "I simply will keep it here with me until you bring the other kitten back so it won't be alone."

The girl happily obeyed, scrambling to her feet and handing him the second kitten, and he continued with his … 'lesson' … having them explain why they had chosen the toys they had. Most of the boys had chosen cars or helicopters while the girls had taken plush toys or dolls. Only Harry, he noticed had chosen one small single plastic soldier, one that surely had been abandoned by the children for a long time as it missed an arm and had a gnawed leg.

Potter however had no problems with that as it seemed and while he didn't lift his hand to explain why he had chosen this toy, he held it closely in his little fist anyway. For a moment he again wondered if the boy had toys at home at all, remembering the blanket and the pillow with the inscription 'St. Catherine' instead of the boy's name, remembering the missing stuffed toy. Petunia definitely had not given the boy a blanket into pre-school for his naps like all the other mothers had, nor a pillow or a stuffed toy, just like she didn't pay for the cartons of milk or give him a lunch for their break. Not even the worn none-slipping socks were a pair, he thought while his gaze went to the boy's feet, but mixed ones, the big toe looking out through a hole on his left sock, probably hand-me-downs from his cousin as well, just like everything else while he missed a jacket completely.

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This time he watched Potter close when the children put on their shoes and then grabbed their backpacks from the hooks, took their lunch boxes. The boy definitely hesitated, looking over at him unsurely, and he gave a small nod, encouraging the boy to take it before he turned with another satisfied nod when the boy _had_ taken it, and then led the nine children outside into the playground. Miss Weldon's class was already outside and Miss Atkins' little ones met with his children on the corridor.

They made their way outside together, the children chatting happily together while Miss Atkins asked how he got along with the children on his first days.

"Considering that normally I do not work with children so young, I daresay that I get along with them rather well." He answered. "It could be worse at least."

"I can imagine." The woman beside him smiled. "How old are the children you normally work with, Mr. Snape?"

"From eleven to seventeen." Snape answered, wondering how much information he should give away.

"They are hardly children anymore, rather teenagers." The woman mused, regarding him with a strange gaze. "What kind of school have you been teaching at? And what subject did you teach?"

"I have been teaching chemistry on a boarding school for secondary students." He answered truthfully, watching the children leaving the building and scattering around the playground and the gardens, sitting on benches to have their lunch. He noticed that this time Potter was keeping close to the building, sitting on a bench in the shadows, clutching the lunch box to his chest with both his small hands but not opening it and – just like the day before – he went over to the boy, excusing himself for a moment to Miss Atkins.

"I have given this lunch package to you so it actually might be eaten by you, Harry." He said, trying to sound demanding without being too stern and frightening. He watched the boy casting a quick glance through the playground area, as if searching something – or someone – before actually opening the box and taking out the sandwich he had placed inside earlier. But then the boy started eating and he could see him closing his eyes while slowly chewing on a simple sandwich as if he never before had had anything as tasty as this.

Without the growl that was on his throat he gave a curt nod and then turned so he would not accidentally smile at the boy that savoured the blasted sandwich so much and went back to Miss Atkins.

"You know, we're two childs, and ev'ry one of us has his own cup!" He heard Gabriel Montico saying while passing the group of boys and he lifted his eyebrow.

"So what?" Andrew Benson shrugged his shoulder. "We're three childs, and ev'ry one of us has an own room!"

Sighing he stopped, his hands behind his back. Where in Merlin's name had they learned speaking? Weren't they supposed to have learned such during their first year at pre-school?

"So?" An older boy shook his head, apparently one of Miss Weldon's children. "We're five childs and ev'ry one of us has his own dad!"

"Children." He said – or rather drawled, his dark eyes on the three boys that were sitting on the ground and they looked up at him with questioning eyes.

"Yes, Mr. Snape?" Gabriel asked, looking at him with large eyes.

"It is children, Gabriel, not childs." He explained. "The word childs does not exist and I suggest you cease from using it."

"Oh, alright." The boy smiled happily. "I'll say children then."

Giving away a curt nod he continued walking back to Miss Atkins who quietly chuckled, nearly laughing outright.

"I don't know what is worse, Aston's comment about his mother's five men or you trying to look scary." She laughed the moment he reached her.

"Trying?" Snape drawled, lifting his eyebrow at the woman. "It seems I am losing my touch. My students at Hathaway definitely _would_ be scared."

"They're children, Mr. Snape." She chuckled, slowly calming down. "They won't take everything as seriously as do your teenagers." But then she got serious. "It is the first time that little Harry has something for lunch, what happened?" She asked, her eyes glowering darkly at the boy. "Did Petunia Dursley finally see reason and provided him with breakfast so he wouldn't have to eat his lunch on his way here?"

"No, Miss Atkins." Snape drawled, his voice sounding as dark as the woman's eyes looked and frowning she turned towards him. "Mrs. Dursley does _not_ provide the boy with breakfast. He however does not eat his lunch on his way here either. Mrs. Dursley simply does not _provide_ him with lunch and Mr. Potter is too ashamed to admit it and that for carries his always empty lunchbox with him in hopes no one would notice that he did not eat lunch at all."

"You packed him a sandwich." Miss Atkins simply stated, putting one and one together and he nodded. "Wherefrom did you know that he did not eat his lunch on his way here?"

"I'm living at Number seven, Private Drive." Snape simply answered. "Opposite the boy's aunt and uncle, and this morning I did not drive here but followed the boy afoot."

"But that is right out neglect and …"

Rough laugher coming from behind made Snape turn and his gaze darkened the moment he saw two larger boys, one whale of a boy and one with a rat-like face, advancing on Potter who lay on the ground, obviously having been shoved off the bench he had been sitting at, the sandwich laying on the sandy ground beside the boy, and with a growl he went over to the three children.

"May I ask what is going on here?" He drawled, his eyebrow lifted at the two larger boys. "So that the two of you have to go against one smaller child?"

"The freak stole food!" One of them answered while the second boy vanished from sight the moment he, Snape, turned on the baby whale that had given the answer. "He's eating a sandwich and mum didn't pack him one."

"Mr. Dursley, I presume?" He asked, feeling a strange animosity towards this boy, an animosity he hadn't even felt towards Potter before he had seen how wrong he had been about this boy.

"Dudley Dursley." The boy answered. "And the freak stole food."

"First, Mr. Dursley, your cousin did not _steal food_ as he actually has gotten this sandwich from me." Snape growled darkly. "Second your cousin has a name and I wish that you address him with it, and third – that is no excuse for you to hurt him, and now you will apologize to your cousin right now and here for accusing him and for hurting him as well."

"What?" Dursley spluttered, his eyes goggling at him unbelievingly. "I won't do such a thing. I don't have to 'pol'gize and surely not to the freak!"

"To Harry or Mr. Potter – and you _will_ apologize and you will do so right now!" Snape growled darkly, threateningly, coming a step closer to the whale of a boy. "Or you will serve detention with me, and believe me, I do not have the slightest problem with keeping a five year old _toddler_ for cleaning up the raccoon room after they have left this evening."

Potter who had scrambled to his feet by now stood there, pale and shocked, shaking his head slightly and he momentarily narrowed his eyes at the boy. Potter definitely was scared and Potter definitely didn't want the other boy being in trouble because of him, whatever reason for.

Well, he knew meanwhile that Dudley Dursley was a bully, Miss Atkins had said so and he had seen it now with his own eyes. He also knew that Petunia not only preferred her son over her nephew and so – well, he could understand that Potter didn't want his cousin being in trouble because of him, probably knowing that the boy would go against him the moment they were at home.

On the other hand, he would not back away. He had demanded an apology from Dursley towards his cousin and he would get what he demanded. He always got what he demanded. He was used to being obeyed and he expected nothing less here from those – toddlers.

Well, Dursley for a moment only looked at him shocked, horrified, but then his fear of him definitely seemed to take the upper hand and he turned to run off. He had expected such a move however, and his hand reached out nearly on its own to grab the boy at the scuff of his neck, stopping him from running away.

"_Not_ – so – fast, Mr. Dursley." He growled darkly, his dark eyes cold. "An apology first."

So shocked that he didn't think about what he was doing the boy took Potter's hand and murmured a quick "sorry" upon which his young raccoon nodded, accepting the apology without a fuss, still looking scared, shocked by himself.

He knew what quarrels between siblings were like, had seen such often enough during his time at Hogwarts, while being a student as well as while being a teacher, and he knew that this was not a simple quarrel between two boys that were growing up in the same household. Potter definitely was afraid of the bigger boy and Dursley definitely was used to shoving his smaller cousin around. Another piece that fitted into the puzzle.

Well, the boy surely would be running to Miss Weldon and later on to his mother, complaining about him, but right now he didn't care. He simply wouldn't allow one of his raccoons being hurt by the other children. One thing however was for sure – Petunia surely wouldn't invite him to tea now anymore, a thought that definitely did _not_ bother him.

"Are you alright, Potter?" He asked and upon the boy nodding back at him he gave a curt nod away by himself, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the sandwich he had prepared for himself. "Then sit back at that bench and continue eating." He growled, giving his sandwich to the boy.

"Yes, one can see that you normally handle older children, Mr. Snape." Miss Atkins' voice beside him caused him to turn towards his young, female colleague. "None of us would have acted in such a way, startling the Dursley boy like you have."

"It worked." He simply said. "I may be a strict teacher, Miss Atkins, yes, but I am teaching chemistry, a subject that can be dangerous, and I not only _need_ my students to have enough respect to obey my ever command to avoid accidents, but I am used to being obeyed also. Here however – the _raccoons_ are my students, and toddlers or no toddlers, I do protect my students."

"Gwendolyn." The woman said, placing her hand on his arm. "And I actually am glad that finally someone has put that boy in line."

"Severus might be appropriate in this case." He said.

Well, Gwendolyn Atkins surely would not have said her last comment, had she heard Dudley Dursley, whispering to his cousin Harry Potter "dad will make you paying for this" when they entered the building later.

Snape too didn't hear it.

What he however heard was a low "just look at him" Miss Weldon whispered towards Gwendolyn. "He looks so damn … well, and he's my age too … I wonder if he's married?"

So Dursley had not run to her, complaining, or she surely would not be drooling over him instead of reprimanding him for taking one of her children by the scuff of his neck.

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"When Arthemius entered the King's grounds and partook in the junior hunt, many eyes were on him, his simple but nevertheless fitting suit, the delicate bow and the strong, black horse he was riding with a grace none of the other young children showed. Who can that be? The children asked each other and the two stepbrothers also wondered who the newcomer might be, for absolutely never would they ever have guessed that this graceful boy was really the poor boy that was Arthemius and who cleaned their house and cooked their meals. When the King set eyes on the boy he was struck by his grace and by his plainness, by the kindness the boy radiated and leading his horse over to him he inclined his head and asked the boy to ride with him, who had no son, no child at all and that for no hair, and to the great disappointment of all the other boys he rode with Arthemius throughout the entire hunt."

Yes – he was back to reading, and yes, the children were back on their mattresses, each of them … _equipped_ … with a carton of milk, and just like the day before he watched them while reading, noticing one set of eyes after the other dropping tiredly. Well, this reading and sleeping thing definitely wasn't so bad at all, he had to admit it to himself. This way he had an hour to himself at least.

"Who are you, boy? The King kept asking him. I never have seen you in my kingdom. But Arthemius always only replied: What does it matter who I am? You will never see me again anyway. That only made the King smiling and wanting to know who the boy was just the more. Oh, but I shall. He replied. I am quite certain of this."

Some of the children already were sleeping while others were on the way into the lands of dreaming and only Potter – just like the day before lay there, sobbing without giving a sound away. He didn't know however, if the boy was upset about the story this time again, or if he still was upset because of the incident during the lunch break. The boy had been unusually quiet and troubled since then. Well, he always was quiet, but not as troubled as he had been for the past half an hour until they had been back inside and were sitting on their mattresses, he even would go as far as saying that the boy was withdrawn.

"Arthemius had a wonderful time at the hunt, but – all of a sudden – he noticed the sun causing the entire horizon glowering in a red light, the last ray of sunlight touching the top of the trees and he remembered what the man had said. Without a word of goodbye he turned his horse and galloped across the fields, leaving even his pray behind and not for a moment did he think of going back to get it. The King, that had been so fond of him surely would be glad to have it as a reminder, because if the last ray of light from the sun would touch the ground … oh, what a disaster that would be! And so he fled and vanished into the darkness of the trees and night."

The door to the raccoon room closing quietly caused him to look up for a moment and he gave a short nod of acknowledgement towards Gwendolyn before he looked over at the children. Most of them were asleep by now and Severus Snape continued reading to get the rest into the land of the dreaming as well – where the little ones already were, as it seemed, or Gwendolyn wouldn't be here now, leaning with her back against the wall beside the door and listening to him.

"The King, who was now so very fond of the young boy only could look after him, startled, but then he turned his horse and went to the spot where Arthemius had shot the rabbit. He pulled the arrow from the pray and gazed at the black feathers for a moment before he turned to his ministers. Go and search everywhere for that boy who has this kind of arrow in his quiver. I will never be happy again until you find him and bring him back. And so the ministers went off and into the small valleys surrounding the King's palace. Into each house they went, and each child's and man's quiver they inspected, but they didn't find the one with the matching arrows. Because the moment Arthemius had come back home the magic all was gone, he was wearing his old rags again, the bow and the quiver was gone while he held his old kitchen knife in his hand and the horse too was back to being a simple mouse. Arthemius however was happy nevertheless. He had had a very enjoyable day at the junior's hunt and even the King himself had been riding with him all day. So happy he was, he didn't even mind having to serve his stepbrothers that were tired from the hunt and disappointed, complaining to their father because the King had not giving any attention to them."

Silently he closed the book upon noticing that even Potter meanwhile was asleep soundly, looking small and helpless while cradling his blanket to his chest and again he went over and gently took hold of one of the edges, pulling the blanket over the small sleeping form. He took the carton of milk, scribbled Potter's name at the carton and then placed it at one of the small tables before he continued doing the same with the cartons that stood or lay beside the other children's mattresses, cursing the fact that, with the other teacher present, he couldn't use magic for this right now.

Gwendolyn, upon noticing what he was doing, helped and soon all the cartons stood on the small table, just like the day before.

"That's a good idea." Gwendolyn then said, pulling one of the small chairs from the table and sitting down.

"What?" Snape sarcastically asked. "Sitting down and taking a nap? Shall I bring you a blanket? And a pillow maybe?"

"No!" The woman quietly laughed. "Labelling the cartons and placing them on the table. This way there won't be leaking milk. You're doing rather well, I nearly fell asleep myself while you read."

"Not for long, I fear." Snape drawled. "Sleeping while standing is rather unbecoming and the noise your fallen body would have made, would have had my raccoons awake again too."

Chuckling Gwendolyn shook her head.

"I never heard of the story you read." She said, curiosity in her voice. "It sounded like something akin to Cinderella."

"Actually – it is." He simply answered, not telling her that it was the wizarding counterpart from the muggle story.

"What made you applying for this job?" She then asked, watching him curiously.

"Are you not supposed to watch your squirrels while they are sleeping?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow and trying to get her off the subject. "They are only three year old toddlers."

Smiling the woman pulled out a small device that looked like a telephone from the pocket of her Jeans and showed it to him with an evil grin on her face that caused him to give away a sigh. A baby-phone! Well, it was a rather ingenious idea and he definitely would get one too. This way he wouldn't be condemned to his classroom while the little snots slept.

He cast another gaze over his … snotty brats, and he couldn't help but feeling that they weren't so bad. Considering baby whale and rat face, they even could be considered alright.

"So, what _made_ you applying for this job?" Gwendolyn's voice got him out of his thoughts.

"Mr. Potter here." He finally said while looking over at the boy. "One day he will attend the school I normally work at, and as this school is not just a simple secondary school but a very respectable academic institution, we have a look at our future students from time to time. We ensure that they are well and thus arrive at our school healthy on body and mind."

"Little Harry?" The woman asked startled. "Being registered at a respectable academic institution and a boarding school no less? Excuse me, Severus, but I don't buy your story. Petunia Dursley doesn't even provide the boy with breakfast and a lunch packet. She surely wouldn't register the child at a school you just mentioned."

"She didn't." The Potions Master answered. "His parents did, upon his birth as they both had been attending Hathaway Academy themselves."

"But then surely Mrs. Dursley would have withdrawn the registration." Gwendolyn shook her head. "There's no way she would pay school fees for the boy, seeing that she doesn't even pay the cartons of milk that are handed out to the children here."

"And she won't have to." Snape again shook his head. "The Potters already have paid the school fees for all seven years Mr. Potter _will_ attend Hathaway and Petunia Dursley surely won't be able to keep him from this. It is a common thing on a school such as this. The parents attending and then registering their children upon their birth, paying the school fees at once for all seven years so never mind what happened, the child's education would be secured."

"Well, then at least the boy will get out of this household the moment he attends this school of yours." The woman growled.

"Actually, I plan to take the boy out of this household much sooner." Snape said. "I won't allow this neglect going on for any longer."

"What do you plan?" The woman asked, lifting her eyebrow in curiosity.

"I simply will take him with me to number seven." He answered.

"That won't be so easy, as much as I would like it seeing done."

"And, pray tell, why not, Gwendolyn?" He inquired, _his_ eyebrow lifted in curiosity now.

"Because the Dursleys would claim charges against you because of child abduction." She answered with a sigh.

"Let them." He huffed. "I have enough evidence to claim charges against them because of child neglect."

"Believe me, Severus, whatever you have, it won't be enough." Gwendolyn shook her head. "Mel, Miss Adams, tried the same, bringing up charges against them, but it didn't work and in the end it had been little Harry who had had to pay for it as the Dursleys had not been pleased about this. Unfortunately they have enough friends at the authorities, at the school board and at the police so you would preach to the converted. You need real evidence, evidence that can't be ignored or shrugged off before you act."

"What do you mean – Harry had been the one who had to pay for it?" Snape asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I don't know for sure." Gwendolyn answered. "I just know that after that, the boy had been even more withdrawn and frightened. And since then he speaks less, hides whatever he can hide of his home life and his tired and starved appearance had worsened."

"Do you think of mistreatment?" Snape asked, speaking out aloud what hang in the room.

"I can't answer you this question." Gwendolyn sighed again, shaking her head. "Sometimes yes, I do think they actually might mistreat the child. But then – Harry never came with bruises or any other indication that he had been injured or beaten. And even on times when he missed a day or two, you surely would see some fading bruises if he had been beaten. I simply don't know, and I am not stupid enough to do anything rash and to gain the Dursleys suspicion. They only would continue with their treatment of Harry – if not even being worse – while just being more careful. And to prove something _then_, it would be nearly impossible. Vernon Dursley as the director of a firm is just rooted too deeply in the society of Little Whinging and Surrey."

Alright. In other words he couldn't do anything right now and he had to wait and to watch – something that didn't sit well with him. But at the same time he knew that he couldn't just go over the muggle authorities. Wizarding world or not, he knew that the ministry of magic worked alongside the muggle ministry, that if the muggles cried wolf, then the wizarding world would notice and would investigate – at least where one Harry Potter was concerned. Never mind what, he couldn't simply abduct the boy into their world, never mind if said boy belonged into that world or not.

Dumbledore had placed the boy with muggles and said muggles now had guardianship over the child, never mind what. So he had no other chance than going the official way – but for that he needed evidence.

"Well, then I just have to be a bit more sly." He simply said. "Seeing that Mr. Potter has a problem with his speaking abilities, he will get extra speaking lessons."

"And that would help how?" Gwendolyn asked, not understanding.

"That will be what we tell the Dursleys, while in truth I am sure that here on this school there is a separate room in which the boy can sleep for a while during the morning hours?" He simply asked.

"Ah, I see." Gwendolyn slowly nodded her head. "There actually is a small rest room in the primary school wing as well as in the pre-school wing, directly between your and my classrooms."

"He will be able to have breakfast here, seeing that he always is half an hour early and after that he could sleep for a while so he will at least have some well needed rest. I also would like doing a medical check up on the boy tomorrow morning and I would be glad if you could be present then, as a witness."

"No problem there." Gwendolyn answered. "Do you have already someone in mind for this?"

"I will do this by myself." He growled. "Seeing that I come from a boarding school, I am adept in drawing up a medical report. And believe me, I do know what I will have to look for."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in ****Cartons of milk**

_A new day, new things to worry about and new things to teach the children__._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	6. crayons and eyebrows

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_"He will be able to have breakfast here, seeing that he always is half an hour early and after that he could sleep for a while so he will at least have some well needed rest. I also would like doing a medical check up on the boy tomorrow morning and I would be glad if you could be present then as a witness."_

_"No problem there." Gwendolyn answered. "Do you have already someone in mind for this?"_

_"I will do this by myself." He growled. "Seeing that I come from a boarding school, I am adept in drawing up a medical report. And believe me, I do know what I will have to look for."_

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter ****six**

**Crayons and ****eyebrows**

Sipping on his morning coffee he ran his hand over his face.

Yes – as much as he had complained about the eleven year old first years at Hogwarts, right now he wished he had them back.

Alone yesterday afternoon. Amelie Benson had started a conversation with him about her family while drawing a picture of her sister, her brother and her parents. And she had told him that her older sister, Annabelle, was very ill and that she every day took the pill because of it, but that she did so secretly so her parents wouldn't be worried.

When Amelie's mother had come in the evening to pick up the girl and to take her home, he hadn't been sure what to do. On one hand he knew that the girl's, Annabelle's, parents maybe should know about their daughter's sexual activities – if the girl even had them and didn't take the pill just because she was precautious. But on the other hand he somehow knew that it wasn't his place to tell them.

Later on, Isabelle's mother had engaged him into a conversation about what kind of lunch she should provide the girl with. He simply had told her that it wasn't important to him as long as the lunch was healthy and definitely not sweets. Mrs. Clayton had not really understood his answer, so it had seemed, as she had asked him again what a healthy lunch would be in his opinion and he had wondered if she had asked Miss Adams the same question, Isabelle was in pre-school for her second year after all, or if she just had wanted to test him. So he simply had told her that a sandwich together with an apple or a pear or any other kind of fruits would suffice.

Warren, David and the Montico sisters had left alone as they lived close to St. Catherine and Eliot had been picked up by his mother too. A rather small and slender woman that was as shy as was the boy.

Potter too had left alone, without being picked up – as always.

Well, he would have a closer look at the boy today, together with Gwendolyn, and packing a cup of yoghurt, an apple and a second sandwich for that child, he grabbed his bag and then left, got into the car and started the engine.

Potter always was half an hour early, and during this time he easily could do this. Gwendolyn had said she would bring a camera, incase they would find anything and he had to admit – he had not thought of that. In the wizarding world, a simple memory would have sufficed. But well – they were not in the wizarding world, they were in the muggle world and here in the muggle world, the Dursleys had guardianship over Potter.

So – if he wanted to do anything to help that boy, then he would have to do it the muggle way, if he liked it or not.

Turning into the Birch Road he frowned upon seeing the steps that led to the entrance of St. Catherine being abandoned and he checked the clock in the car.

No – he was not early. It was half past seven.

Parking the car and turning off the motor he wondered what might have kept the boy. He had not seen him on his way and he should have. Driving the way to St. Catherine was the same route as walking here. So – he should have met the boy if he wasn't here yet.

Getting off the car and closing the door he wondered if maybe Gwendolyn had arrived already, had taken the boy inside and he crossed the road, walking over to the building – just the moment as a small, dark blue, car he couldn't identify came by and parked beside his, his colleague getting off the car and coming over to the building as well.

"Harry isn't here yet?" Gwendolyn asked and with a frown Snape shook his head, his face getting dark while he unlocked the door and opened it.

After a moment of hesitation he left the door open, placing a piece of wood between the door and the doorframe so it would stay open. The boy this way would be able to enter. Nevertheless he hesitated another moment before he finally went inside and strode along the corridor, entered his classroom – again leaving the door open.

"Maybe he's ill." Gwendolyn said. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"So early in the year?" Snape asked, his face a mask of doubt. "And the day after there had been trouble with his cousin during lunch break? On what occasions has the boy been ill last year? Any patterns?"

"No, not really." Gwendolyn answered after a moment. "At least not that I noticed, and Mel never mentioned anything too, only that Harry often was too ill to come in the first place."

"What kind of illness is it, the boy suffers from anyway?"

"I don't know." Gwendolyn slowly shook her head. "As Harry never was in my class, I do not know him so well. Miss Adams would be able to answer that question. Maybe we should call her?"

"Yes, maybe we should." Snape growled. "I however begin to highly doubt that the boy suffers from an illness in the first place."

"You think that he suffers from the neglect?"

"Indeed." He said, casting a glance through the window every now and then. "I do know the signs of neglect and Potter – Harry – shows all of them, and more than just simple neglect."

"You are different than other teachers I know." The woman said after another moment of silence and with a frown he cast a quick glance at her before turning back towards the window to look over the street Potter would come along – if he would come.

"That might be because I have not been a simple teacher at Hathaway, but the head of a house." He finally answered with a sigh. "I had about seventy students under my care, and as my house was a shunned house within the school, I guess that – over the time – I have developed some sense of over protectiveness over my students."

"A head of a house? For about seventy students?" Gwendolyn gasped. "But that makes you a teacher that easily could act as a headmaster."

"Believe me, I have no intentions becoming a headmaster." Snape huffed. "I am absolutely content with being a teacher and a head of a house."

"You are planning on going back to Hathaway?"

"Of course." Snape finally turned towards Gwendolyn fully, gazed at her with serious dark eyes. "I am here as a replacement for Miss Adams during this term. And honestly, I am no teacher for toddlers anyway. Even the eleven year old first years we have at Hathaway are too young for being taught by me, to be honest. I am no kind or understanding teacher and I proudly can say that I am the most hated teacher at Hathaway."

"Yes, I can see that you are rather good at making yourself unpopular." The blasted woman smiled and he huffed again. "I however do notice that you're doing rather well with the – _toddlers_ – you have under your wing here, and you are protective over them. Something not every teacher is ready to."

"I _am_ used to protect the children under my care, never mind how old they are." Snape growled. "Such is my responsibility and I intend to fulfill it."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Well, he also had intended to go back to the Dursleys to ask where Potter was, but first, he had known that the other children would come soon and second, he had known that he better did not do anything rash. If he wanted to help that boy, then he better went along the sly way instead of doing anything stupid. He would wait until tomorrow and if Potter weren't here then, then he simply would make a call on Petunia and ask her why her nephew had missed pre-school for two days without being excused.

"Alright, Gabriel." He said, upon looking at the boy's picture. They were supposed to draw a tree with leaves in the colors of the fall. "Now I want you to sign your picture with your name. Do you know which letters you would need for this?"

The boy shook his head, looking up at him with large eyes.

Taking an extra sheet of paper and a crayon he bent down and wrote the boy's name in large letters onto it.

"That's your name." He then explained.

"Are you sure?" Gabriel asked, looking at him suspiciously.

"I am absolutely sure." Snape answered, his eyebrow lifted.

"That looks stupid." The boy said, frowning at the letters. "Why can't I use other signs than them?"

"Which signs would you use if you could chose?" Snape asked, lifting his eyebrow even higher.

Frowning again, the boy took the crayon and with his tongue stuck out between his teeth he drew a circle underneath the letters that were his name. Then a form he couldn't identify, a triangle, a line and another circle. Then he looked up at him expectantly.

"That looks – interesting." Snape admitted, forcing himself to _not_ close his eyes in frustration for a moment. "The problem is that no one aside from you would be able to read your name. And so you need to use letters everyone can read and know what they mean."

"Are you sure?" The boy asked innocently again.

"I am sure." Snape affirmed.

"Why?" Gabriel wanted to know.

"Because those letters can be read nearly everywhere all over the world and everyone does know what they mean. With them, people can read entire words and then entire sentences and finally entire stories or books. Everyone has to learn those letters for being able to write and to read them."

"You mean …" The boy slowly began. "You mean … if I can read them … then I can read everything too? Even the paper dad reads in the morning?"

"Yes." Snape nodded, crossing his hands behind his back.

"And the books mum reads in the evening?"

"Yes." Snape again nodded, his face still a mask of calmness.

"And the comics uncle Alvin reads?"

"Even them." Snape nodded a third time, hoping that the boy would not bring up his entire family's reading habit.

"Cool." Gabriel then said. "Can you show me how?"

"That is, what I am trying to do with teaching you those letters." The Potions Master answered, wishing that his students at Hogwarts would be as eager as those blasted toddlers. Maybe he should stay here after all. Those little snots were more eager to learn anything than were the teenagers he normally taught.

"Can you show me before you show Gabriela?" The boy then asked, his eyes large and bright.

"Why would you want to learn those letters before your sister does?" Snape asked, lifting his eyebrow at the boy.

"Because she normally always learns things before I." The boy said. "And can you show me this too?"

"Before _me_." Snape corrected. "And what exactly are you referring to?"

"Your eyebrow." Gabriel said, climbing up to stand onto the stool and then getting onto his toes, lifting his hand and brushing his fingertips lightly over his eyebrow and for a moment he had to keep himself from snatching the boy's hand away. "That looks funny."

"This, I cannot teach you." He said, nearly growling. "Maybe you will learn it on your own one day. You just have to practice. And you do not stand on the chairs, Gabriel, you could fall and hurt yourself."

"How did _you_ learn it?" The blasted boy wanted to know, not getting off the chair he still was standing at and he sighed, took the little snot under his armpits and simply stood him on his feet on the floor.

"I do not know this." He said. "I just can do it."

"I want to do it too."

"Then just try it, and if you manage, then practice it."

"But how?"

"First you try to write your name on your picture so that I do know that it is yours and then we will see if I can show you how to lift one eyebrow."

"But you know that it's mine." Gabriel said, frowning at him. "You've seen me drawing it."

"Yes, I did." The Potions Master sighed, knowing that maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea, staying here just because those toddlers were eager to learn. He would end up having holes in his stomach from all their questions. "But I am sure that the other children soon will have finished their pictures and then they will get mixed up and in the end I won't be able to tell which one had been yours."

"But Miss Adams always knew which one was mine." The boy said, folding his small arms in front of his chest and Snape nearly had to huff at the gesture.

"That might be, because Miss Adams had written your name at the backside of your pictures?"

The boy nodded his head.

"Well, you are old enough so you can learn how to do this by yourself." Snape said, again lifting his eyebrow at the boy. "You do have to learn this anyway and so you can start with signing your pictures right away."

"Can you write your name?"

"Of course I can."

"And can you write my name too?"

"Yes, I could write your name too."

"But then you can write my name down there like Miss Adams always has done."

"I could, yes." Snape smirked. "But I won't do so. _You_ will do so. Just copy the letters I have written down on this paper and then you have signed your own picture and all by yourself."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"More than a week had come to pass and the King's ministers had not found the boy they had been sent out searching for and so the King decided to invite each young boy that had been present at the junior hunt to a ball, hoping that this way he would find the boy again. And so word was brought through the valleys surrounding the King's palace, that in two weeks from now on a ball would be held, and that all the young partakers of the junior hunt were invited to the event in the King's palace."

Again the door to the room opened quietly and Gwendolyn slipped in, just like the day before, sitting onto one of the tables and listening to the story he read. With a frown he cast her a quick glance before simply continuing. Well, his dignity already _was_ damaged – that blasted woman already had listened to him yesterday – so what? And at least the little monsters would sleep for an hour. Most of them were already fighting with their dropping eyelids and he could see Gabriel lifting his eyebrows every now and then while laying there, not managing to lift just one of them.

His gaze automatically went over to the mattress Potter normally would lay on, covered with a plain white blanket with the inscription "St. Catherine, pre-school', and the fact that the mat was empty somehow bothered him more than he dared to admit.

"Of course the two stepbrothers prepared for the ball and again fine clothes were brought to the house, a barber was called and plans were made while the two boys picked on Arthemius, told him every now and then that they would go to the ball while he would have to stay behind to cook, to cut firewood and to clean the house as well as to clean their clothes. And again Arthemius was very sad about this, but he accepted it, because he knew that he couldn't change it anyway. He would be in deep trouble, if he would dare to ask if he could go to the ball too and so he just shrugged it off, doing his best to please his stepfather and his stepbrothers, hoping that maybe one day they would love him too."

Again most of the children were asleep meanwhile and the rest of them was about to fall asleep, holding the cartons of milk in their small hands while one of those cartons still stood on the tablet he had placed on the table underneath the window, the carton of milk that would belong to Potter if the boy were present, while Gwendolyn had placed her elbows atop her knees and her chin into her hands, listening intently. Hopefully she would not ask him to lend her the book, because the moving pictures definitely would be nothing he would be able to explain to the woman. And neither were the one or other comments that were made in the foreword.

"The day of the ball drew near and again Arthemius was left behind, in the back yard this time, pegging out the laundry. A small girl came along, standing there on the garden fence for a while, watching him with some kind of sad eyes, a girl that had no socks on her feet, and after a while Arthemius simply pulled a pair of old socks he had gotten from his stepbrothers out of the laundry basked and went over to the girl. Here. He simply said. I don't need them but you have none. He was just about to turn and to go back to the laundry, but then the girl spoke up."

Well, it was his third day here as a pre-school teacher, and it was his third day reading those children a story, but still he was astound over the fact of how quickly they fell asleep. Surely the morning couldn't be so tiring for them? Admittedly, they were small children, yes, and admittedly, they were here to learn, even if they were learning by playing. But they were children! And didn't children have an inexhaustible amount of energy? Well, as it seemed – they _could_ be gotten exhausted. And he hadn't even done anything to them yet!

Only two boys still were fighting sleep yet. Gabriel was one of them, still trying to move only one eyebrow, using his small fingers to hold the other one in place and Snape nearly snorted at the sight, and David was the other one, the boy looking rather sad and as if nearly crying, strangely reminding him at Potter. Potter too would be laying there, crying, if he were here today. But he wasn't, the lonely carton of milk that stood on the table beneath the window was proof to that and David seemed to loyally take over Potter's role, as it seemed, fulfilling the other boy's troubled appearance.

"You have been at the junior's hunt, the girl said and Arthemius nodded at her." He continued reading. "Why are you not at the ball the King holds tonight? The girl then asked. I'm not allowed to, the boy answered, looking aside, nearly ashamed. And besides, I don't have anything to wear for the ball. Oh, but that can be remedied. The girl smiled, watching him with the same sad eyes as had the man a few days ago, and then she simply lifted her hand. A moment later everything went bright for a second and when the light was gone, the boy was dressed in discrete but nevertheless very good looking clothes. He looked down at himself, startled, but then he smiled at the girl, remembering the mouse that had become the man and then a horse. I shall bring you to the King's palace tonight, the girl said, but you must remember – you must leave the ball shortly before midnight and come to the stables to get me so I can bring you home, because that is, when the spell will end. Your clothes will be back to the old rags you are wearing now and I will be back to the poor little girl I am now. Do you understand this? The boy smiled and nodded. Yes, I understand, he said. The girl then turned on the spot and a moment later there stood a horse, a white mare that looked so pretty and wonderful that for a moment the boy gasped before he climbed onto the back of the mare and rode towards the King's palace."

Just like the day before he quietly closed the book and started to label the cartons of milk, placing them on the table he had put them at the days before. At first the children had been upset upon waking up and not finding their milk, but he had showed them where the cartons were, had given them their respective drinks and now they were quite used to waking up without them.

Again his gaze went to the lonesome carton of milk that still stood on the tablet atop the table beneath the window, Potter's carton of milk, and the sight of it made him worry about the brat, even if he never would admit that to himself openly.

"He will be back tomorrow." Gwendolyn said, her gaze following his and he turned to look at her. "Or the day after tomorrow at the latest. He normally is just missing one or two days."

"And you think that this sets me at ease?" He asked. "The fact that I can do nothing, while I know that something in that household is quite wrong, is just unsettling. And honestly, I did not like the smug expression on Dudley Dursley's face today during the lunch break."

"Hmm." The woman made. "But have you noticed that he avoided you throughout the entire break? That he had kept an eye on you?"

"Indeed." Snape snorted. "What however is nothing to worry about. All the students at Hathaway do."

"If you handle them all the way you have handled the Dursley boy yesterday – yes, then I can imagine that they do. Honestly, Severus, grabbing the boy on the scuff of his neck, it was quite a sight, I have to admit, and I have enjoyed it."

"I wonder that Petunia Dursley has not come running to Headmistress Davenport with this." Snape huffed.

"Oh, Miss Davenport would not have been on her side if she had, and Mrs. Dursley knows this." Gwendolyn answered. "It wouldn't be the first time after all that Mrs. Dursley tries to complain about something. Mel once reprimanded Dudley after he had shoved Harry from the swings, shortly after Harry came to St. Catherin, and she had run to the headmistress. Miss Davenport only said that she did not like the older children shoving the younger children around during the lunch break and that she would have had a word with Dudley too."

"Let me guess, the next day Potter had been missing." Snape growled darkly.

"Hmm …" Gwendolyn made, thinking. "Actually – yes."

"So, you begin to see the pattern …"

A touch on his elbow made him stop and looking to his left – to look into the sleepy eyes of David Arlington who looked quite shaken and frightened, cradling the teddy bear he used for his naps close to him.

"What is it, David?" He asked, keeping his voice quiet and calm.

"Bad dream." The boy sniffled, shifting the teddy bear a bit so he could reach out with one arm, as if he wanted to be picked up and Snape – after a moment of shock in which he gaped at the child and after heaving a sigh – obliged and pulled the boy onto his lap, startled about the fact that the normally so shy boy had come to _him_ for comfort after a nightmare.

David however struggled on his lap for a moment until he was comfortable and then leaned his head against his – Snape's – chest, and fell asleep again.

"Not – a – word!" Snape growled darkly the moment he looked up into Gwendolyn's dark blue eyes that held a lot of amusement.

"I didn't say anything." The woman chuckled. "I won't say anything. Not a word."

"I do know this innocent look." He growled. Nevertheless he looked down at the sleeping child and with a frown he lifted his hand and shoved the hem of the boy's shirt aside a bit, revealing a bruise on the boy's shoulder that had been slightly visible under the shirt upon the boy bending his neck when leaning his head against the man's chest.

"Gwendolyn." He growled darkly, his eyes not leaving the bruise while he lightly ran his hand over the colorful spot.

The woman bent forwards, looking at the bruise, and the startled gasp told him enough, told him that she had not known, that probably she never before had seen a bruise such as this, caused by child abuse instead of the children just playing around and falling.

Reaching his hand around the boy and lifting the shirt from the boy's back, he gritted his teeth upon more bruises being revealed on the boy's back and sides. At least he didn't have to wonder any longer what could have caused the boy's shyness. He also didn't have to wonder any longer why Mrs. Arlington had divorced.

And still the boy was visiting his father on the weekends.

"What do we do?" Gwendolyn asked, startled, her voice unsure.

"I will have to report this to the headmistress and I will have a word with Mrs. Arlington when she picks the boy up this evening."

"Do you think we can do something?" Gwendolyn asked, her voice nearly scared.

"That depends." The Potions Master growled. "If Mrs. Arlington is ready to cooperate and to work with us, then we will be able to, yes. If not, then it will be a hard task. At first I guess I will have to talk to her."

"At least David's father isn't living with the family anymore." Gwendolyn sighed.

"That might be, but still the boy is visiting his father at the weekends." Snape said, frowning at her. "Are there other children in the family?"

"No." The woman shook her head. "David is their only child. How can someone do this to such a small child?"

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in ****Cartons of milk**

_A new day, new things to worry about and new things to teach the children__._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	7. cereals and juice

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

April, 29th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_"At least David's father isn't living with the family anymore." Gwendolyn sighed._

_"That might be, but still the boy is visiting his father at the weekends." Snape said, frowning at her. "Are there other children in the family?"_

_"No." The woman shook her head. "David is their only child. How can someone do this to such a small child?"_

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter seven**

**Cereals and juice**

He had cast a diagnostic spell as soon as Gwendolyn had left his classroom and he had sighed with relief the moment he had noticed that aside from the bruises the boy had been alright. If a bruised child could be considered alright at all, but at least there had been no broken bones, he was not malnourished and his organs were alright too. Only the bruises, but they were bad enough. David Arlington was a rather small four year old boy, not as small as Potter, but small nevertheless, and he was beaten by his father whom he visited every weekend, or at least every second weekend, he wasn't sure about that yet.

_"David is a bit shy at times. It will get better a bit during the week, but coming Monday he will be back to being shy."_

Miss Davenport's words came to his mind and he could understand them now. He now knew the reason as to why the boy was so shy. And he really didn't have to wonder why the boy would have a nightmare during his nap. He had watched him throughout the reminder of the afternoon, and he had found what he had been looking for, the telltale signs of abuse, the boy being shy, quiet, keeping his head down and flinching when someone moved to close or too quickly. Just like Potter.

"Mrs. Arlington?" He calmly asked the moment the slender woman entered the classroom to pick up her son and he took a good look at her. He didn't find bruises, but he could tell that the woman was shy and quiet too, years of living in fear definitely having caused lines of worry on her face.

"Yes, Mr. Snape?" She asked.

"I would like to have a word with you, Mrs. Arlington." He said, shaking the last children's hands to dismiss them home before he extended his hand towards his desk, pulling the second chair from under the table to invite the woman to sit down.

"Why don't you take a book to look at while your mother and I are talking, David?" He suggested and the boy quietly nodded and went over to the bookshelf. He watched him taking a book from the shelf, sitting down on one of the tables, slowly turning the pages while he looked at the pictures.

"David did have a rather disturbed sleep this afternoon, Mrs. Arlington." He started, knowing that delaying the subject wouldn't help matters. "And after he came to me in his distress, I discovered bruises on his back and sides." He didn't say more, knowing that it would be enough, but he watched the woman's reaction close.

"The boy fell down the stairs." The woman said, startled, her face going pale at his words and she wrung her hands in her lap.

"We both know that this is a rather weak excuse, Mrs. Arlington." He bluntly said, trying to sound not too angry at her words. He knew that the woman most likely was just as scared as was David, even if he didn't really understand why. She had divorced after all, her husband didn't live with them anymore.

But he had the boy on the weekends, he told himself again.

"Yes, I know." The woman sighed, apparently realizing that he already _knew_ and that any further denial would be in vain. "And I promise, I will get it under control."

"Does David's father have the boy every weekend?" Snape asked, trying to find out more, trying to find a solution.

There was a small pause during which Mrs. Arlington looked at him startled again, surprised for a moment and he realized that maybe she had not thought about the fact that he might know that they had divorced and that David visited his father on the weekends.

"Yes." She then said, unsurely.

"And there is no way to keep the boy from him?" He asked. "At least until a court order is made so he won't get David at the weekends anymore?"

"I don't know." She slowly said, averting her eyes. "I don't know if David would want this."

"Mrs. Arlington, abused children often cling to a parent that abuses them, just so to please and in hopes of getting a bit of love from them one day." He said, forcing himself to not run his hand over his face tiredly. "They are afraid of displeasing them, afraid of even more beatings then. I am sure that David would rather soon learn that life without visiting his father at the weekends would be much better. But he has to be given this chance in the first place."

"I will talk with my lawyer about it." The woman sighed. "I promise. I just don't know how … I am sure that Richard won't be too pleased about this."  
"You fear that he might do something if you go against him." Snape simply stated and the woman looked over at the boy, a thoughtful gaze in her eyes. "You do know that there are ways to protect David and you from him." He said when no answer came from her.

"I will go over it with my lawyer. I'll get this under control, I promise." She said again, not commenting his statement, and in this moment Snape knew that she wouldn't do anything. The words _'Ill get this under control, I promise'_ were enough for him to know this. He had heard those exact words often enough and he knew that they were spoken only to reassure him, and to stall for time. "It just won't be as quickly as … "

Sighing Mrs. Arlington drifted off.

"I do know this, Mrs. Arlington." Snape sighed, knowing that it wouldn't do any good to press the woman right now. He would have to wait, as much as he hated it to wait. "If you need help with the authorities, then I will be available."

"You would …" The woman sputtered, blinking at him shocked.

"I do not like seeing the children under my care being hurt." He seriously said, making sure that the boy's mother knew he would do something at one point or another if she didn't.

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Mrs. Arlington had called David over and the boy had given him his hand shyly, just like he had the past three days. And then they had left, leaving behind a Potions Master that looked rather worried.

Sighing Snape waved his wand over the room to get the mess under control – not that there was much of a mess as he insisted that the children cleaned up after themselves – and then he took his bag and left the raccoon room to go home. He now had a Potter that was neglected beyond what was acceptable, and he had a boy that was beaten up by his father he visited on the weekends. Aside from all the other toddlers he had to care for.

His worries did not leave him while he drove home and the moment he entered number seven, he grabbed the telephone book and searched for Miss Adam's number. Another few moments later he held the receiver in his hands, again being reminded of how long ago it had been that he last had made a telephone call. With another sigh he dialled the number, knowing that he had no other chance than doing this the muggle way. Miss Adams surely would not be too pleased if his head suddenly sat in her fireplace after all.

"Adams." Came the female voice of the woman that had cared for the raccoons last year from the receiver and for a moment he grimaced.

"Snape." He then answered. "Severus Snape, I am the substitution for your raccoon class this year."

"Ah, yes." The woman answered. "Miss Davenport told me about you. A rather scary, dark guy with long hair and a grim scowl on his face, that seems to be a bit strange, if I remembered her words correctly."

Well, he nearly could hear her chuckling and he scowled. At least he knew now that his image was still intact.

"What can I do for you?" She then asked, seriously again. "You hopefully do not have any troubles with the children?"

"No, but actually I do have a few questions, Miss Adams." He started. "One is about Mr. Potter."

"Yes, I thought that you might have questions about Harry." She now sounded rather sad. "So you did notice the neglect as well."

"Actually, yes." He said. "And I would like to know if there is a pattern to _when_ exactly Potter has been … _ill_ last year. Maybe after the weekends, or after he had been in any troubles with his cousin at pre-school?"

"A pattern?" Miss Adams asked and he nearly growled. Did the woman _have_ to repeat his words? "Not that I noticed, Mr. Snape, no. Why do you ask?"

"Did you see any bruises on Mr. Potter?" He inquired.

There was a pause on the telephone and he wondered if the woman really considered his question or if she was lost for words because of another reason.

"No, and thankfully so." Miss Adams words finally came and he tried to detect anything that hinted she might not be truthful. It would be much easier if he had her in front of her and could use legillimence. But on the telephone? How could the muggles live with such things? Talking on the telephone without being face to face. Via floo he would have been at her end within a few seconds and then he would have been able to talk with her from face to face, would have been able to watch her reactions.

"Do you have any reason to think that there might be, Mr. Snape?" Miss Adams asked. "Did you notice anything? If so, then you should take pictures for evidence and then we should notify the headmistress about this. I would not like Harry being hurt, but this might be the chance to get the boy out of this household after all."

"I have noticed nothing yet." Snape answered, breathing a sigh of relief. Miss Adams would be on their side. "I however do plan on having an eye on the boy. He has not been at pre-school after a quarrel with his cousin yesterday and I only hope that he will be back tomorrow."

"Alright. Please inform me if you know more, Mr. Snape." She said.

"I will."

"And the other questions you had?"

"Is about David Arlington."

"What is with David?" She asked. "Is he ill?"

"No." Snape said. "But I noticed bruises on his back and sides today after he came to me because of being troubled during his nap and I wondered what you could tell me about the boy. Or rather his father. Mrs. Arlington does not seem able to go against her former husband to keep him out of his grasp during the weekends."

"I feared that this might happen." The woman sighed. "The trial of the divorce had been a nasty one. I haven't been present, but I heard that the man had thrown a tantrum after Mrs. Arlington had gotten custody of David."

"Do you see a chance that the boy could be spared those visits?" The Potions Master asked.

"Not if Mrs. Arlington doesn't stand up against the man." Miss Adams said.

"Alright." Snape sighed. "I will work on that, but it might take some more conversations with her. She definitely still is afraid of him."

"I can imagine." Miss Adams sounded thoughtfully. "David never said anything, but he always had been more quiet after the weekends, something definitely having bothered him. I am glad that he feels safe enough with you to come to you after nightmares during his nap. He never has done so with me."

"I will inform you as soon as I know more about either Mr. Potter or young Mr. Arlington." The Potions Master promised.

"But otherwise you manage the little monsters, Mr. Snape?" The teacher on parental leave asked. "One does not meet a male pre-school teacher every day after all."

"Aside from the fact that some parents are not able to dress their children in clothes they are able to get out of by themselves without the aid of a teacher, a fact that is predestined to cause an accident, and aside from some parents not knowing what a healthy lunch might contain – yes, I do manage the little monsters."

"I guess you are talking about Isabelle's mother." Miss Adams said and it was clear that it wasn't a question but a statement.

"Indeed." Snape answered with a sigh.

"Yes, the woman is a bit – let me say strange." Miss Adams chuckled. "But the Claytons do care well for their daughter. Mrs. Clayton just is a bit unsure. She does not have much contact in the community and some people, like the Dursleys for example, are looking down at her because they moved to Little Whinging only a year ago. I am sure she would do much better if she had a friend here."

"I see." Snape answered, sighing. That were those things he was glad for being a teacher at Hogwarts – normally at least. At Hogwarts he didn't have to worry about such things. At Hogwarts the children were much older and at Hogwarts he didn't have too much contact with the parents either. Contraire to the other heads of houses he indeed _had_ contact with his students' parents, either visiting them or inviting them for a talk once in a while, but that still was not too often, it was … acceptable

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The next morning he prepared lunch for the boy, just in case, and then he watched number four closely. He could see movement behind their windows, but he could not see who was moving and what the persons did. He kept on watching nevertheless. And punctually at seven o'clock he could see the front door opening, Petunia shoving – _throwing_ – Harry out of the house, just like he had seeing her doing on Tuesday, the boy again wearing no jacket and cradling his worn back pack to his chest, looking back sadly before turning and slowly walking on, limping along the street.

At least the boy did wear a jumper this time, even if this one was as worn as were the rest of his clothes and the back pack he cradled so protectively to his chest.

He watched him limping along the street for a few minutes more, his mind racing, and suddenly he was _sure_ that there was more to the neglect, that it couldn't be a coincident that Harry hadn't been at pre-school the day before, after the incident with the young Dursley and now he was limping. He was sure that the boy had somehow taken his revenge on Potter, maybe even getting the smaller boy into trouble with Dursley senior.

Having made his mind up he grabbed the keys and his bag, and he left the house, got into his car and drove down Privet Drive. The moment he turned right, a block away from the Dursleys house, he could see Harry in front of him and he slowed down the car, stopped beside the boy and leaned over, opening the front passenger door.

"Get in, Mr. Potter." He said to the startled boy that looked at him frightened. "I do see no need for you to walk all the way to school."

The boy hesitated for a moment, looking at him still scared, but then he slowly came closer and he slowly got into the car, hesitantly, not leaving his eyes off him. Eyes that were not large this time, but small, narrowed and wary, and he didn't like the way they look. It showed clearly that the boy expected something and readied himself for what he expected.

And somehow he feared what this something might be.

Noticing that the boy was not able to close the heavy door of the Voyager himself he shifted the gear to 'P' and then got off the car, rounded it, knowing that if he had leaned over he only would have scared the boy out of his pants. He closed the passengers door and then got back to the driver's seat, started driving again.

He didn't say anything while he did, not wanting to press the boy right now. He would have a closer look at him at the school. But at least he now knew that Potter was not afraid of the car like Petunia had claimed. It was clear that he rather was afraid of him, Snape.

Steering the car onto the parking space, he turned off the motor and left the Voyager, again rounding it and opening the passenger door so Harry could get out himself. He waited until Harry had left the car, climbed out of it rather clumsily, he noticed, and then he threw the door close, steering the boy towards the building and up the stairs.

He watched the boy close and aside from the limp he only could see that he was more frightened and nervous than he had been the first two days. But that could have been because he had told him to take the ride instead of walking, or because he this time steered the boy up the stairs, his hand gently but firmly on the back of the bony neck. He actually could feel the fear radiating off the boy, knew that he simply didn't dare breaking away from his touch.

He however didn't see any bruises on the pale face, the neck or the boy's hands.

He unlocked the door to the pre-school wing without releasing the boy's neck, not because he wanted the boy from breaking away, his gentle touch wouldn't have kept him from that, but to give him an anchor, knowing that it _was_ some kind of anchor for the child, and then he steered him into the building, along the corridor and into the classroom.

Beckoning the boy over to the table they had been sitting at last time, Harry slowly walked over to him after he had exchanged his shoes with the socks and then stood unsurely in front of him.

"Sit down, Harry." He said, pulling a chair from under the table and sitting down onto the small furniture himself, not for the first time wondering how this thing could _not_ break under his weight.

He pulled out a small bowl with cereals and a carton of milk, poured the white liquid over the cereals and then placed it in front of the boy, knowing that he had to get him to eat _before_ he had a look at him, knowing that the boy wouldn't eat anything afterwards, that he would be too upset doing so and he hoped that Gwendolyn would be present by then to assist him and to take pictures if he found anything – what he somehow didn't doubt anymore. At the same time he knew that he would do this even without her presence if he had to, and that he would do so this morning, before the other children would arrive.

"Eat." He said, placing a spoon beside the bowl.

Harry just looked at the bowl for a moment before he looked at him and then averted his eyes, shaking his head while he kept his hands in his lap.

"Why not, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, for a moment feeling irritated at the brat before he reminded himself that maybe there might be more to it than simple neglect.

"Me not 'llowed." The boy whispered quietly, still refusing to look at him.

"Not only _are_ you allowed to eat here, but I also do _expect_ you to do as I say and eat this." Snape said, trying not to growl. "Now!" He added at the unsure look and jumping the boy quickly took the spoon and started eating.

"Good." Snape said calmer then. "And now I want you to listen, and to listen closely. I want you to _not_ stop eating while you do however. It is important that you eat something. I also want you to answer any questions I ask of you truthfully. Is that understood?"

The boy just nodded at him, looking at him with fear written all over the thin and pale face.

"Good." He again said, taking a deep breath. Never before had he had such a talk with a child so young. He had those talks with his Slytherins, when they were eleven or twelve, thirteen even. But not with a five year old child and somehow he didn't know how to do this. He however knew that he had to start somewhere.

"Seeing as you are here early in the mornings anyway, I will bring breakfast each day and you will be able to eat something in the morning." He finally said. "I expect you to eat as much as possible. Continue eating." He added when the boy – maybe just out of habit, because he was frightened, startled, laid the spoon back at the table beside the bowl. "I do want you to eat breakfast each morning you are here, never mind what your relatives say. You need to eat something and I do intend to see that you do. After breakfast I will bring you to the rest room that lays between this classroom and Miss Atkins' where you will be able to rest. You are not only too thin, you also are tired and exhausted. You need rest as well as food. If you are not able to sleep, then at least you will be able to rest in peace for as long as you need and for as long as you wish. You may come back to the classroom the moment you wake up. Is that understood?"

The boy nodded again, slower this time, hesitantly, and he could see the fear deepening in the child's eyes.

"Good." He nevertheless said. "I also will bring you lunch each day and …"

The boy's headshaking at his words, his fingers that dropped the spoon and the fact that the boy jumped up, trembling backing away, told him enough and he quickly leaned over, reached out without getting off the small chair, knowing he would just startle the boy more than he already was if he did. He grabbed the thin upper arm to stop him from fleeing the room and held him in place, gently but firmly, while he with his foot simply pulled the chair the boy had been sitting in closer so it was directly beside him now, steered the boy back onto the chair. He took the spoon the child had dropped and placed it back into the boy's trembling fingers.

"Continue eating!" He said, his voice allowing nothing else than obedience. "There is no need to being afraid. I have made a mistake by supplying you with a sandwich for lunch on Tuesday openly, but I am not a man that makes the same mistake twice. You will be able to eat your lunch in the restroom without your cousin seeing you. I take it that you have been punished for having lunch on Tuesday?" He asked, but of course he got no answer aside from Harry averting his eyes.

"I did ask you to answer my questions truthfully, Harry." He sternly said and finally the boy nodded.

He didn't ask what had happened, knowing that the boy then again would not going on eating if he did. He would ask later.

"Drink something." He said, reaching a glass with pumpkin juice he had laced with a slight calming potion earlier over to the boy. "Good." He then said when the child took the glass without any more fuss and drank it. "I assure you that we will keep this from your cousin as well as from your aunt and uncle." He then said. "I will not mention this to anyone aside from Miss Atkins who will help to make this work, and the headmistress. But I expect you to cooperate and to eat breakfast as well as lunch I will provide you with, and to sleep for at least an hour or two in the rest room each morning. It is imperative that you do so, Mr. Potter. Do I have your word that you will do this?"

Harry nodded at the man, even if he didn't understand half of the words Mr. Snape used.

He had been so startled when the man had stopped his car beside him, had opened the door and had offered to take him to school. If aunt Petunia and Dudley had seen this on their way to pre-school, or uncle Vernon on his way to work … but it was too early for them to leave the house yet, and so he had gotten into the car, not really sure if it was the right thing.

But nothing had happened, Mr. Snape had not beaten him and he had not screamed at him either. It had been a few minutes that had been peacefully quiet and he had savored the feeling, being with an adult and feeling safe and peaceful nevertheless. And that he had not to walk all the way with his knee hurting so much either.

Even when Mr. Snape had his hand on his neck, had led him from the parking space to the school, he had not been scared only.

Yes, he had been scared. A touch, and a touch on his neck never boded well, but Mr. Snape's touch had not taken anything of him, had not hurt him, had been gentle, it had felt safe. Not like his uncle's touches.

For a moment he shuddered.

He even would have been able to break away if he had wanted to, and he knew this, but as strangely as it had been, he had not wanted to break away. He had felt safe and for a moment he even had imagined that this feeling must be what children felt in the presence of their fathers. But his father was dead. He didn't have a father and it was not only a stupid and dangerous thing, but an inappropriate thing too, imagining Mr. Snape taking over this role. The teacher surely would be disgusted if he knew what he had been thinking and feeling.

"Would you like having more juice, Harry?" The Potions Master asked, satisfied with the boy calming down visibly and he couldn't keep himself from smiling when the child vigorously nodded his head, looking up at him with large and unbelieving eyes.

"Pwease?" Harry asked, shyly, not believing that … he never had been asked if he wanted more, he never had had something to drink like that either, he actually never had had _anything_ aside from water – and the cartons of milk he got at school. But not at home, there he only got a glass of water from the faucet, nothing else, and surely never two glasses, even if he really was thirsty after doing his chores outside in the garden during the hot summer weeks.

And yet – Mr. Snape had given him breakfast, again, and he had said he would do so every day and that he wanted him to eat it, that he would bring him to the rest room so he could sleep. And that he would give him lunch too.

_That_ – had been a really scary thing however.

"Here, drink, child." He heard Mr. Snape's voice and for a moment he wondered how the teacher had refilled his glass without getting up. Or maybe he had gotten up, but he just had not realized it as he had been so deep in his own thoughts and again he took the glass, drinking from it, slower this time, trying to savor the taste of it.

It really had been a scary thing, Mr. Snape telling him that he would have lunch every day and he had remembered two days ago, when Dudley had …

However, the question had him really scared, but the moment he had tried to flee the situation, Mr. Snape had again taken hold of him, had stopped him from bolting from the room and he had pulled the chair closer and sat him back, had made him eating again. But all the way he had been gentle.

Wasn't that what parents did?

Did Mr. Snape have children? He surely knew a lot of how to handle them. He had watched him on Monday, and on Tuesday.

He was like Miss Adams had been, and he was like Miss Atkins was, just a bit sterner and a bit scarier, and a bit harsher, but not like the Dursleys. And that surely was something? So, the man surely had children. How old were they? And how many did he have?

Secretly he imagined himself again being one of them, while at the same time he tried to hide those thoughts even from himself, knowing how wrong this was.

He wasn't good enough for being anyone's son, and surely not the son of a man like Mr. Snape.

The teacher getting up and placing the bowl and the spoon into the sink got him out of his thoughts and he blinked in shock when he realized that he actually had emptied the bowl of cereals while he had been thinking.

"Come now." Mr. Snape said, standing close to the door, waiting for him. "I will show you to the rest room."

And slowly he got up, following the man out of the raccoon room and along the corridor to the next door, the one he had spoken of earlier, the one he had said he could lay down in, which the teacher then opened, holding open the door and waiting until he came over.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in ****Cartons of milk**

_Unexpected revelations ..._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	8. anger and fear

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

May, 13th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_The teacher getting up and placing the bowl and the spoon into the sink got him out of his thoughts and he blinked in shock when he realized that he actually had emptied the bowl of cereals while he had been thinking. _

_"Come now." Mr. Snape said, standing close to the door, waiting for him. "I will show you to the rest room."_

_And slowly he got up, following the man out of the raccoon room and along the corridor to the next door, the one he had spoken of earlier, the one he had said he could lay down in, which the teacher then opened, holding open the door and waiting until he came over._

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter ****eight**

**Anger and fear**

"Mr. Snape?" Miss Davenport's voice came from the other end of the corridor and the Potions Master turned towards the woman that walked towards them, one of his eyebrows lifted in question. "What are you doing with little Harry here?"

"I suggest that you accompany me inside the rest room, Miss Davenport." He calmly said. "Surely you won't have me explaining things in the corridor."

The woman cast a strange look at him, but he just watched her with his dark eyes until she gave a nod.

Turning his dark eyes towards Potter who watched them with large and frightened green eyes he could see that the boy was tired, that he actually had been tired from the very beginning since he had started here at St. Catherine just four days ago. There always had been dark circles under sunken eyes in a pale and worn face – a face that was too small and young for looking like this and he wondered when the child had last had a good night's sleep. No child should be so tired. And no child should be in so much fear, no child should be so hungry.

"Come in now, Harry." He quietly said when the boy hesitated at the door, lifting his hand to ruffle the boy's hair, but he withdrew his hand when the child flinched back at his touch as if he was afraid to get struck. Severus did not miss this, but now was not the time to say anything about that. He would just have to remember not to take any sudden movements towards the boy, and so he just placed his hand atop the bony shoulder to lead the boy towards the cot that was resting against the wall to their left.

He gently took the boy beneath his armpits and lifted him up, gently setting him down onto the cot before he pulled a chair over, and sat down in front of the child while Miss Davenport stood at the foot of the cot, watching him curiously, not knowing what to make out of the situation.

"Alright." He softly said, keeping his voice as calm as possible while he ignored the headmistress standing beside the bed. "First, we will make it a bit more comfortably for you." He said, gently pulling at the left sock the boy had changed against his shoes earlier. He repeated the same with the other sock and then laid them onto the foot of the cot before he pulled off the boy's worn socks that had been underneath.

"I is very warm in here and there is a blanket you can use while you rest, it will be more comfortable without your socks, trust me." He quietly said, still ignoring the headmistress while he took first one of the small feet into his hands, feeling for the bones and moving the toes and the ankles, and then the other one, easily noticing that the toe nails were too long and uncared for and that the boy winced when he moved his left ankle.

"Alright, what do you think, Harry, should we work on your speech a bit every morning before the other children arrive?" He then asked to distract the child from what he was doing while he took the boy's hands, again feeling for the bones, moving the small fingers and the wrists. First with the boy's left hand and then with his right, noticing that again the child winced when he moved the small fingers of his left hand as well as when he moved his left wrist. The nails on the small fingers were not too long, but uncared for nevertheless, gnawed down to the flesh.

Well, it seemed to work, as the boy did not notice his examination but gave him a shy nod as an answer and he gave a curt nod in response.

"Alright, then we will do just that." He said while he pulled at the left sleeve from the jumper the boy wore until he had the arm pulled out of the sleeve, the boy being so startled that he did nothing against it and he quickly pulled the child's other arm out of the other sleeve and then the jumper over the boy's head.

"Each morning while you eat breakfast, we will work on your speech before I will bring you here for some rest." He said, giving a quick glare at the headmistress who gasped at the bruises and welts that covered a much too thin, a _startling_ thin body, while he at the same time stood up from his chair and shoved it a bit back so he had more room to move.

Of course the boy would wear no T-shirt or undershirt beneath the jumper despite the cold in the early morning hours, he thought angrily. Petunia didn't seem to think the boy worth enough of wearing both and provided him with only either a T-shirt or a jumper – not to mention a jacket. And of course she would dress him in a jumper today instead of a ragged T-shirt, trying to hide the colorful bruises that covered the boy's arms. Not that the jumper he had worn wasn't ragged, perforated and stained as well.

"Mr. Snape?" Miss Davenport asked and he again cast a quick glare at the woman, slightly shaking his head before giving his attention back to the child in front of him solely. Not now. Right now was not the time for explanations. He had to get this over with as quickly as possible and without a fuss, neither from him nor from the headmistress. Right now the boy still seemed to not really to grasp what exactly was going on and he wanted this finished and the child resting before he would notice.

Severus could tell that the child before him wanted to cry and the fact that he didn't panged at his heart strangely while at the same time he somehow felt proud. The boy looked away, ashamed, as if he already … '_knew'_ that he had been bad, that he had been punished. And he was sure that _that_ was what the Dursleys had drilled into the boy. Gently he grabbed Harry's cheeks between the palms of his hands and pulled the small face up.

"Look at me, child." He softly said, not allowing the boy to turn his head away again and when Harry looked at Snape, the older wizard easily could see the hidden fear in the green eyes. "I know that you are scared and you have all right for being scared. But trust me, child, I won't hurt you. I promise you this." He said while still holding the boy's head so he couldn't break the connection and he gently felt the child's skull, his cheekbones and his jaw, his nose while he kept up a steady flow of softly spoken words.

His hands wandered down the child's throat, his neck and his shoulders, over the collarbone and over his ribs, glad that he could feel no broken rib, even if their prominence was startling, frightening even.

"I want you to lie onto your stomach, Harry." He quietly said, his dark eyes never leaving the startled green ones. "Can you do that for me?" For a moment he nearly scowled at himself. What a question! 'Can you do that … _for me_'! It surely was nothing he normally would have asked one of his students. But then – his students normally were no five year old hurt and frightened toddlers either. And well, it seemed to do the trick, as Harry at least gave him a wary nod, even if he didn't move yet.

"Very good." He just said while he took the boy's legs and placed them onto the cot before taking the small shoulders and guiding the child to lie down on his stomach.

He had to grit his teeth to prevent a hiss when he could see the boy's back and for a moment he even considered using one of his healing salves, the headmistress surely wouldn't make out the difference, but then he sighed, knowing that he couldn't do that. Not now at least. If the boy came home to the Dursleys, healed fully, he didn't want to think of what they might do to the child. He had gotten Harry into trouble while wanting to help him with the lunch he had given him on Tuesday, only wanting to help. He didn't want to make the same mistake a second time.

And so he simply cleaned out the cuts with the muggle disinfection Miss Davenport had taken from a medical cabinet near the cot, all the way inwardly cursing muggle treatment supplies, knowing that the disinfection surely hurt more than one of his salves would have done while the woman tried to hold the child somewhat still when he tried to wriggle away from the Potions Master's hands.

"Buwns." The boy protested with a voice that clearly was strained from efforts to not cry.

"I know, but it is necessary, child, stop struggling." Severus instructed, his voice sounding a bit harsher than he had intended with his worry and he immediately tried to sooth the child with gentle words.

Harry however was not really an easy patient, but considering all the injuries, the pain he surely must be in, and the fear he certainly must be feeling, the level of starvation and the boy's tiredness and exhaustion, it was only understandable, and he could tell that he tried very hard not to cry, but then it just happened when the burning in his back seemed to become unbearable.

And yet, it was so soft, it took Snape a moment to realize that the child indeed _was_ crying, being used to the shrill and loud wails of children who demanded consolation. This, however, was no exaggerated suffering designed to draw attention. No, this child seemed to know that no one would come, that no one would hear his sobs, that no one would care about it. This crying was meant to be secret, Potter, he assumed, having stopped crying for real a long time ago, but still the dry heaving sobs tore at man's heart and he only could watch as the boy cried in distress and despair for what seemed like an eternity while the blasted woman that was the headmistress didn't know what to do in this situation.

Of course she didn't know, he inwardly huffed while applying a muggle salve that hopefully would at least keep the cuts from becoming any more infected. Those pre-school teachers might be able to care for a bruised knee or a bruised hand when one of the children fell off the swings, but surely not to handle abuse to such an extent.

"Don't you have any kind of pain reliever, Miss Davenport?" He softly asked, not even looking at the woman.

"No." The headmistress shook her head. "Not here at the pre-school wing anyway. We can't give them Aspirin. They are too small. We normally call their parents if something happens."

"This is not a possibility right now, is it, Miss Davenport?" He asked with a dark glare at the headmistress while trying to keep an angry growl out of his voice.

"You mean …"

"Yes, I _do_ mean!" He said, giving her a pointed look before turning back to the boy and hesitantly Miss Davenport left the rest room.

"Turn around, Harry." He softly ordered after he had applied the muggle salve over the child's back, just the moment the headmistress came back into the room, an Aspirin and a glass of water in her hands.

"Pwease, no more." Harry said while tears ran down his face.

"I know that it hurts, child." He said, sitting onto the bed and turning the boy on his shoulders, pulling him up into his arms. "But it really is necessary. I promise, it will be over very soon." Severus tried to calm the softly but desperately crying child in his arms.

"Here, take this. Come now, open up. It will help soon." He said, trying to shove the Aspirin between the child's lips that were pressed together tightly.

"Don't you think that more than a half is too much?" Miss Davenport asked worriedly.

"Normally I would agree with you." Snape said, shifting the small form in his arms so he could look into the pale face. "But this is not a normal situation, wouldn't you agree, Miss Davenport? And I doubt that you are ready to call for an ambulance and openly go against the Dursleys yet? Come now, child, let me give you something for the pain. You must be hurting. This will help you, I promise, trust me. Open up."

Well, he didn't know if it was the 'help', the 'promise' or the 'trust me' that did the trick, but slowly the still sobbing child did allow him to shove the Aspirin between half parted lips and to hold the glass of water at his mouth so he could drink.

"That's it, child." Snape said, starting to cover the bruises on the boy's chest, shoulders and sides as well as on his arms. At least they were not open like the ones that covered his back, and at least there weren't as much as were on his back.

"I want you to lean back against me and rest now, let me help you, child." Severus instructed Harry, placing his hand on his forehead. "Pull his Jeans off, Miss Davenport." He then quietly told the headmistress who at first looked at him startled but then seemed to understand and hurried over to them.

Harry looked shocked, but let Miss Davenport open the button of his Jeans and pull the fabric down his legs when Severus lifted the boy's bum off the cot a bit, too startled to do anything.

"Hush child!" The Potions Master said, sensing the child's fear and Harry cried into the man's chest while Severus inspected the child's legs. He would like having a look at the child's bum and privates too, but he knew that this simply was too much, that this would go beyond what was appropriate. He would have to talk to the headmistress about that.

Not even when Severus stopped applying the salve over a few bruises on his legs, especially on the boy's left knee that was swollen and a mass of bruises and scratches as well, did he stop crying. Only when he pulled him more securely onto his lap and motioned for the headmistress to cover the small body with the blanket, he started to go from heavy sobbing into light weeping and finally hiccupping.

"Hush, it's over, child." Severus over and over whispered in Harry's ear while slightly rocking him. "Close you eyes, rest, sleep if you can, but close your eyes. Everything is quite fine for now, child. We will find ways, I promise."

Just a few moments later the boy slept so peacefully and looked so small and vulnerable, and the older wizard found himself wondering when the last time was that this child had gotten a decent night's sleep without being terrified of being beaten half to death, without being in pain. Gently he worked his way out from underneath the child's sleeping form without waking him in the process and then covered the boy with the blanket.

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"I take it that still nothing can be done yet concerning Potter's relatives without getting the boy into more trouble than he already is with those imbeciles?" He asked after he had greeted his children and then meeting with Gwendolyn, Howell, and the headmistress in the staff room for a short briefing. Miss Davenport had asked Miss Weldon to take the raccoons and the squirrels together with her hedgehogs into the garden for a bit while she had to _'clarify'_ something with the other two teachers. Miss Weldon had looked at them curiously, probably wondering what exactly they had done to get into trouble with the headmistress.

He didn't know why Miss Davenport had insisted that Howell partook in the briefing and neither did he like Weldon looking after his raccoons as he did not like that woman one bit, but he knew that someone _had_ to look after them and it was clear that Weldon was not to know about this conversation either as she only would carry the news to the Dursleys, and so the headmistress had asked that woman to take them all outside for a bit.

"Unfortunately – no." Howell was the one that now answered and Severus Snape growled at the 'no' he had given away. "The Dursleys have too much of an influence on the school boards, the local council and even on the local police. Not to mention that they have a lot of money and I know that Chief Anderson is more than just a _bit_ corrupt. Whatever we do without absolute proof that the injuries are not sustained by either accidents nor by play fighting with neighbouring children, would only make them angry at young Harry and they only would vent their anger on the boy."

Unfortunately Snape knew from experiences with his snakes that had Death Eater parents that the man was right.

"I have taken pictures and I will keep them in a safe place until we have enough proof." The headmistress said.

"What more proof do you need?" Severus nevertheless asked angrily. "Even an idiot will be able to see that those injuries are neither caused by a simple accident, nor by a simply play fight amongst children. Not to mention that the neglect is evident."

"Of course everyone can see that." The headmistress answered quietly. "And yet, I do know the Dursleys. Their influence is quite large and their word will count more than ours. We need a watertight proof. Until then, we only can try to help Harry as good as possible. I heard you already provide the boy with breakfast and lunch, Mr. Snape?"

"I do." Severus gritted out angrily. He inwardly was cursing in every language he knew, and he knew quite a few. Most of them might be beyond understanding and ancient, forgotten languages from eons ago but they _did_ hold powerful magic and he had to keep himself from touching his hidden wand while he tried to get his fury under control. The sparks definitely would have startled the other teachers.

"He also can sleep or take a break in the rest room between Severus' and my classroom in the mornings." Gwendolyn said. "And if the Dursleys notice something and ask – then Harry is getting speaking lessons to improve his speech."

"In the meantime I will gather informations." Howell said. "I know that there are ways getting officers from other districts to check on a situation that can't be solved in one district. But I don't know how it is done yet and I have to be careful with gathering these informations so that no one will find out what exactly I'm planning. If Chief Anderson notices something he will take steps on his own to prevent that and I don't dare thinking of what exactly those steps might be."

Snape cast a long look at Howell before he inclined his head. In the beginning, upon their first teachers conference a week ago, he had thought that Howell was a dim witted imbecile who was too dense remembering him being introduced as the pre-school teacher for the raccoons. But right now he had learned that the man seemed not as dim witted and imbecilic as he had thought in the first place. Maybe it was a good thing that Davenport had invited Howell to this briefing.

"I also in future will have the raccoons eating inside the classroom before I take them to the garden." Severus growled darkly. "That way his cousin will not notice him having a sandwich which his aunt did not pack him again. I only ask you to take my students outside for lunch today, headmistress, as I have something to – discuss with Potter."

"Of course, Mr. Snape." The headmistress answered. "What is it you have to – discuss with the boy anyway?"

"That will be between Mr. Potter and me." Snape growled with a dark glare before spinning around and rushing out of the room, down the flight of stairs and along the corridor before he threw the door to his classroom open and stormed inside, startling his raccoons in the process and he frowned at them, his dark eyes wandering from child to child for a moment while he forced himself to take a few calm breathes.

"Did Miss Weldon not take you to the garden?" He then asked, calmer.

Six heads shook their heads no while twelve eyes were still large, watching him startled and he took another deep breath.

"In this case, I do compliment you on your behaviour." He quietly said, leaning against the sideboard and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Seeing that you have been very quiet without destroying my classroom while you have been without supervision. I am quite proud of you."

Some of the small faces lost their startled looks and some even smiled proudly at his words.

"Come over here, all of you." He said, waving them over to the carpet they usually met at in the mornings. Pulling one of the small chairs in front of the children that looked at him startled again he sat down, again pinching the bridge of his nose before he took a deep breath.

"Who of you do know what abuse means?" He then asked, gaining headshakes and questioning looks from his children.

_His_ children! Rubbish, he scowled at himself. Those blasted snots surely were not his children!

"Alright, who of you do get three meals every day?" He then asked, trying to improvise. He hadn't been planning on this, on talking with toddlers about such a thing as abuse and neglect. And yet, he knew that sometimes members from child services came to pre-schools and primary schools to talk with young children about such. Surely he would be able to handle such a situation just as well, it was no foreign subject to him after all.

The children in front of him shared questioning glances for a moment before hesitantly all of them lifted their hands.

"Very good." He said, trying to smile at them while at the same time he knew that he failed miserably in the task. His facial muscles simply were not made for smiling! "Now, who of you have enough appropriate clothes?"

"What's 'prop- … 'propri- … 'prop- …?"

"Appropriate." The Potions Master repeated. "It means suitable, proper, fitting. Who of you have fitting clothes you like wearing?"

Again all the hands rose, a bit quicker this time as they seemed to get more comfortable even if they surely didn't understand what he wanted of them.

"This' my fav'rite pullover." Gabriel said.

"Mum has to wash and dry it in one go." Gabriella laughed. "One time it wasn't and he had a fit, and mum said he could go naked, but he had to wait so she could get the photo to take a picture."

"Telltale!" Gabriel shot at his sister with an angry glare as the other children laughed.

"This is one of the things I do not want here, Gabriella." Severus sternly said. "I noticed that you like teasing your brother, and while being in private it might be alright. But the moment you do so in front of the other children, you hurt your brother with your comments. I want you to think of how you would feel if you were teased like this in front of your friends."

"Uhm …" The girl made, blinking at him and it was clear that she hadn't thought of that before. "Wouldn' like it." She then said.

"Exactly." Snape answered. "And therefore I want you to stop teasing your brother. Always think of how you would feel before you say something that would hurt him. Can you do that, Gabriella?"

"Yup." The small girl said, visibly proud that he had given her such a difficult and important task. "Sorry Gabriel." She then said.

"You all have rights." The wizard then continued. "You for example have the right to being fed properly. You have the right to being dressed properly. You have the right to have a bed where you can sleep and rest in and you have the right to learn. You have the right to being loved and you have the right to visit pre-school or school in peace. You have the right to have friends and you have the right to being handled with care and respect. You have the right to visit school without fear and you have the right to go home without fear."

"Do we really have so many rights?" Eliot Adams asked, watching him with large eyes.

"Of course you have." Snape answered.

"Mum always said I have to do things I don't like. Like cleaning my room and going to bed."

"That might be because you have duties as well as rights." The Potions Master said. "That is how a family, a class or a community works. You have duties which you have to fulfill, and you have rights which others have to grant you as well. You have to keep your room clean, but your mother provides you with proper clothes, three meals a day, a bed to sleep in, and love."

"And sweets." Warren Blacksmith smiled.

"And sweets." Severus agreed, even if he inwardly cringed at the offending word. Yet, the comment made clear that the boy had understood.

"How do you know that we have all that rights?" Isabelle Clayton asked.

"They are written down in our fundamental laws." Snape answered.

"What are fundamental laws?" Amelie Benson asked.

"Our fundamental laws are our most important laws that are made for the protection of every human being and which every human being should regard and they are written down in a book." Snape said, leaning forwards, his elbows resting on his knees. "All of us, all of you, your siblings, your parents, your family, your friends, your teachers, I, we all have those rights and we all have to regard those rights to others so we all can live together."

"You mean … you mean, we all … we all have the right for … for going home without …" David Arlington started but then stopped and looked at his socks, playing with one of the nubs. It was the first time that the boy partook in a conversation, that he said something at all and Severus nearly smiled. Nearly, mind you! He was Severus Snape, harshest Professor at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, he made the firsties cry and he simply didn't smile! And above all not over a toddler that suddenly started to talk to him!

"Yes, David." He seriously said. "You have the right for going home without fear." He didn't say 'without fear of being beaten if you visit your father', knowing that the boy surely wouldn't feel comfortable with this statement, but he was sure that the boy understood nevertheless. David was a rather smart boy after all.

"What … what if …" David again started, looking up at him with unsure brown eyes, again stopping mid sentence.

"You mean, what if you couldn't go home without fear?" Severus asked, watching the boy close. David only nodded at him. "Then you tell someone, an adult. You tell your teachers or your friend's parents for example. Because most likely an adult will be able to help you. If you do not get enough food at home, you tell an adult, if you get beaten at home, you tell an adult."

"Like Harry?" Eliot asked, looking at him with eyes that clearly said he understood. A four year old child, but he seemed to understand and the Potions Master nodded.

"Yes, like Harry." He said. "I do not want you telling anyone of Harry though. We have noticed and we will take care of the situation. We won't find a way today and not tomorrow either, but we will find a way to help him. You – could help him while simply inviting him to play with you. I noticed that Harry – and David – are always alone." He added, noticing that David looked down at his socks again, definitely feeling uncomfortable. Yet – he did not look away when the boy finally looked up at him again. "Maybe you can change that and try playing together with those two."

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After the headmistress had come to take the raccoons out into the garden for their lunch he waved Harry over, keeping him from following his class. He had gone to the rest room a few times throughout the morning to look after the boy and when he had found the child awake, sitting on the cot with the blanket wrapped around him protectively, he had helped him getting dressed and then he had taken him back to the class.

Slowly the boy came closer and Severus directed him over to the mattresses. On his way he pulled a box from beneath his desk and took it with them to the children's sleeping place where he placed it at the boy's mattress. Upon seeing the colorful box however, the child stopped abruptly, his eyes darting nervously up at his teacher.

"Come over here, Harry." Severus calmly said, frowning at the child's reaction while he settled himself on the floor beside the mattress. On the floor! The first thing he would do upon being back at Hogwarts would be having Poppy checking him for insanity, that one was for sure! On the floor! He!

Harry slowly shuffled over to stand beside him and stared at the box, his breathing noticeably changing to a rapid gasping and the Potions Master slowly patted the mattress beside him, indicating that he should sit down. He watched the child unsurely sitting down onto the mattress, watching him warily while he reached for the box and pulled it closer, noticing the boy stiffening, his breathing becoming faster the closer the box came.

When he noticed the boy preparing to flee, his eyes wide and panicked, the Potions Master however was ready and with a worried feeling in his stomach he dropped the box and wrapped his arm around the child's shoulder, turning the silently struggling child and cradling him to his chest for a moment.

"Calm down, child." He said, keeping his anger at the Dursleys under tight control so he wouldn't startle the boy while he wondered what exactly those blasted monsters had done now so that the simple sight of a box would cause such a response.

"No!" The child however cried, trying to push himself away, trying to struggle free. "Not 'lowed! Huwt Hawwy!"

He pulled the child closer, wrapping his arms around the flailing limbs while he rubbed the boy's back gently, muttering soothing words to the clearly distressed child.

"Hush, child, breath calmly." He quietly said. "I will not hurt you, I promise. You are safe here, child. Breathe calmly, I have you. You are safe here. I will not harm you in any way, I promise."

It took a few moments, but then the child stopped his struggling and sagged against his chest while Snape gently continued running his hand over the boy's back, reassuring the child over and over again that he was safe here. It disturbed him deeply that a colorful box sitting beside him terrified the child so much and again he vowed to himself that he would find a way to get Harry away from those monsters that had hurt the boy so badly.

He only could guess, but he was sure that his guess was a good one, that – most probably – during Christmas when any young child would have been excited by presents sitting beneath a tree, or at his birthday, the boy had been beaten by them for touching those presents and only with great effort he forced his anger back behind his occlumency shields and concentrated onto the slight weight that was trembling in his arms.

Bringing one hand up to place his fingers beneath the child's chin, Severus tilted his head up to see frightened but now calm green eyes staring back at him and he waited for another moment until he could be sure the child knew who held him, before he spoke softly.

"I have brought this box for you and there is nothing inside that will hurt you." He said in an as calming voice as he could, avoiding the word 'present' and his dark eyes never left the green ones. "And neither will I hurt you for touching it, I promise you. Trust me, child. In there only is a blanket and a pillow for your naps here, something that should have been given to you a long time ago. Will you feel more at ease if I open the box for you, child?"

The small boy slowly nodded at him, the small hands that still held the fabric of his sleeve curling even tighter into the material of the black shirt. Keeping his movements calculated and steady, Severus pulled the box closer again and he could feel the child that was sitting on his lap tensing up again. With one arm still holding the child against his chest he used his other hand to slowly opening the box, tilting it towards the still frightened child.

"Reach into the box and take the blanket out, child." He said reassuringly.

The five year old however just stared wide eyed at the green and blue coloured thin blanket that was visible inside the box for a long moment before his eyes darted up to warily search his teacher's face once more and the Potions Master could feel the boy taking a deep breath before really slowly reaching into the box and lightly running his fingers over the soft fabric.

He noticed the boy looking down, lowering his head, his shoulders stiffening as if he expected being beaten, but then he looked back up at him, warily, and when still no blow came his small fingers carefully took hold at the soft fabric and pulled the blanket towards him, the soft material unfolding at the movement. Again he looked up, startled, nearly holding his breath, fear evident on his entire pale face, but then he pulled the blanket closer even, pressing the fabric against his small chest, a look of unbelieving and wonder on his face.

Deciding that it definitely was enough strain for one day for the child Severus pulled out the matching pillow himself and simply placed it at the boy's mattress.

"Won't you place the blanket onto your mattress, Harry?" He quietly asked, smiling at the disappointed look on the child's face and he reached into the box again, taking out an old stuffed snake that held black and green patterns.

"This is Mr. Moo." He then explained. "Not too far from where I lived when I was a child there was a farmer that had cows and one day one of his cows escaped and trotted down the road where I lived. It was quite a sight as it was an industrial area where I lived and people were not used to seeing a cow trotting down the road. There also had been a few bigger boys who used to tease me. However, on this day the farmer's cow saved me from them. It most likely really only smelled the clover the boys had collected for their mothers, but it ran after them nonetheless, all the way mooing loudly, and so I decided to name this snake – Mr. Moo. I am sure that Mr. Moo will be very willing to watch over you just like he had done for me for many years. And right now I am sure that Mr. Moo would like having lunch with us, he can be very hungry."

Hesitantly, still with nearly a sad look in his eyes the boy did as he was told and placed the blanket at the mattress before he looked back at the teacher. Severus waited a moment, curious as to what the boy would do, if he would reach for the snake himself, but when it was clear that he wouldn't, he simply took the child's thin wrists and placed the stuffed toy into the child's arms, folding them over the snake, before standing the boy onto his feet and getting up himself.

"Let's have lunch, child." He said. "I have brought cheese sandwiches and apples for us."

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**To be continued**

**Next time in ****Cartons of milk**

_A nap, __Arthemius again and another talk in the staff room ..._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	9. Mr Moo and Mr Snape

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

May, 27th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_Hesitantly, still with nearly a sad look in his eyes the boy did as he was told and placed the blanket at the mattress before he looked back at the teacher. Severus waited a moment, curious as to what the boy would do, if he would reach for the snake himself, but when it was clear that he wouldn't, he simply took the child's thin wrists and placed the stuffed toy into the child's arms, folding them over the snake, before standing the boy onto his feet and getting up himself._

_"Let's have lunch, child." He said. "I have brought cheese sandwiches and apples for us."_

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter nine**

**Mr. Moo and Mr. Snape**

"The King watched all the young boys that came to his palace this evening and he nearly was disappointed when he didn't see the boy he had hoped seeing again." Severus Snape read after he had handed out the cartons of milk. "He was just about to turn when he saw a beautiful white mare in the distance, with a small boy riding it and feeling happy in his heart he turned so the boy would not know that he had waited for him."

After they had eaten their lunch, the boy again slowly and nearly savouring each and every bite of the sandwich until he had been unable to eat any more of it, and before Miss Davenport had brought in the other children, he had packed away the blanket and the pillow that belonged to St. Catherine so Harry could arrange his new blanket and pillow at the mattress.

The headmistress had smiled when she had brought in his other raccoons, watching the boy for a few moments arranging his things on the mattress and she had given him a nod of approval before she had left his classroom.

Eliot had come over while the others had started to arrange their own beddings for the nap, and he had picked at his sleeve. Upon looking down at the child he had looked into a pair of large brown eyes.

"What is it, Eliot?" He had asked. "Do you not want to arrange your pillow and blanket for your nap?"

"I lost a tooth." The four year old boy had smiled brightly at him, one hand outstretched to show him the tooth that – apparently during lunch – had fallen out while he with the forefinger of his other hand had picked at the tooth space. "See? Here!"

"Yes, I can see that." Severus Snape had sighed, doing the little monster the favour and looking at the tooth space.

"You think the tooth fairy will come, Mr. Snape?" Eliot had asked, still wide eyed with excitement, nearly jumping up and down.

"I do not know, Eliot." He answered. How should he know if the boy's parents partook in such rubbish like the tooth fairy, sandman or other such colleagues. "But you should show your parents and then place the tooth beneath your pillow tonight. Maybe the tooth fairy will come, maybe not, I do not know. It depends on if she has a lot to do and is near. Maybe she is in Austria tonight."

The boy – luckily – had accepted his answer and he had gone to his mattress, arranging his bedding like the others had done, like Harry still had done, the green eyed boy kneeling on his mattress and arranging and re-arranging his pillow and his blanket, and Eliot had then placed his tooth beneath his own pillow, probably hoping that the tooth fairy would come this afternoon already and he wondered if he was supposed to fulfil this job as well. What exact things did his job contain, by the way? What exactly was he supposed to do in such a situation? Surely no one would expect him playing tooth fairy or Santa Clause, sandman or the Easter bunny?

On the other hand - he hadn't thought of changing wet clothes, opening or closing the buttons on children's Jeans or handing out carons of milk, reading toddler's stories to them when he had accepted this post. He had not thought of cradling children that climbed onto his lap, of abused children or of a small and scrawny scarecrow with the name of Harry Potter that didn't even have lunch nor a blanket and a pillow for his nap.

However, right now he watched Harry laying on his mattress while he was reading to the little snots in hopes they would fall asleep soon, the boy cradling Mr. Moo close to his chest, unable to close his eyes that barely left the snake or the blanket he had given to him. He had his head laying on the matching pillow, but he had not dared covering himself with the blanket, the blue and green mixed blanket laying in front of him so he could watch it and only from time to time the green eyes darted over to him, Severus.

"Entering the ballroom the King went towards the head of the long table, smiling at the curious and excited looks of the other boys while waiting for the one he had spotted earlier on the horse." The Potions Master still read. "He had ordered to keep the stool to his right reserved for this particular boy and so it still was empty while the young men around him chatted happily in their excitement. It was not every day after all, that one was sitting at the same table as was the King. Only minutes went by until Arthemius entered the ballroom, one of the King's servants leading him to his place to the King's right hand and even pulling back the chair for the boy to sit in, and then the meal began. There was a lot of meals and drinks most of the boys didn't know and they tried to taste everything, overloading their plates, while Arthemius who never had much to eat at home only took from the pheasant and potatoes, knowing that he wouldn't be able to eat too much anyway."

It was like always and the children were starting to fall asleep one by one. He had read Harry the part of the story he had missed the day before so he would be able to follow the story, and now he still watched the boy, cradling Mr. Moo to his chest, his carton of milk cradled in his other hand – and still unable to close his eyes, to take his eyes off such a simple thing, a blanket and a stuffed toy.

He could see the child taking a deep breath from time to time while burying his nose into the soft fur of Mr. Moo, just like he as a child had done so often, inhaling the scent of the stuffed snake, and he could see the child smiling whenever he did. However, this time while reading the child did not cry, and neither did David.

David was another problem.

He knew that Mrs. Arlington wouldn't consult her lawyer concerning her former husband and he knew that soon he would have to take matters in his own hands. But before he did, he knew that he would have to have a word with Miss Davenport on how to proceed. He didn't want to get the boy into any kind of trouble with his father because of his actions and so he needed to know where the man stood, if it was any similar to the situation with the Dursleys or if he could do something on his own and soon.

"The King was very pleased that not only the boy was very polite like he had learned during the hunt already, but that he had manners too and so he was not disappointed having reserved the seat to his right to him, again asking him for his name after the meal while all the other boys started joking and chatting, still excited over being here." He calmly read on. "But again Arthemius only answered: What does it matter who I am? You will never see me again anyway. But this time the King had been prepared for the boy's answer and so he said: Oh, but I will. Because I would like you living here in my palace and becoming my hair."

He could see a small smile on Harry's face and he himself nearly smiled as well at seeing the boy so happy, knowing that not only was the boy happy because of the blanket and Mr. Moo, but because of such a small thing like being read to as well. He gazed at David for a moment, seeing that this boy too had a small smile over his face, most likely imagining that he would be Arthemius, and he noticed that the boy had turned, was now facing Harry, his dark blue eyes meeting the emerald green ones for a moment.

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"Arthemius looked at the King startled for a moment before he gave him his answer. You would not want having me as a hair, My Lord. Arthemius said, smiling a sad smile that the King did not miss." Harry listened at Mr. Snape's reading while he couldn't take his eyes from the nice blanket and Mr. Moo. "I am nothing more than a servant and I have no education. I would not be able to make you proud. And with those words he excused himself, bowed to the King and then he stood and left the table as it was close to midnight and he knew that he should leave before the King and all his guests could see his _true_ poor appearance. He calmly left the ballroom, but then he nearly fled the castle, crying over being offered something he would so desperately like without having the chance to really have it while he ran towards the stables to get the mare."

Harry could understand Arthemius. He often had dreamed of someone coming and taking him away from his aunt and uncle, and now this Mr. Snape had come to pre-school, and even if he had been afraid of his teacher at first, he now liked him and he also would like to be taken away from the Dursleys by him, but at the same time he knew that this never would happen.

Mr. Snape really had been very kind to him, had given him something to make the pain better, even if it was back by now, and he gave him something to eat, and not only for breakfast but for lunch too, and not only leftovers but the same things he ate! And he allowed him to lay down in the rest room where he even could sleep if he wanted. And he had given him the blankie and the plushie and the pillow. And he talked to him, kindly even, and he listened to him too.

Of course he still was afraid of Mr. Snape somehow. The teacher really _was_ scary, with his black clothes and with his strict and harsh face, with his large nose and his black eyes. And the teacher always was so rigid and so … so severe … so formal, not like Miss Adams had been. He couldn't even understand half of the words Mr. Snape used because they were so big. Miss Adams always had used smaller words. And Miss Adams always had smiled. He never had seen Mr. Snape smile. But he had seen the concern in the teacher's dark eyes, and the approval in them, when he had done what he had asked of him in the rest room earlier, when he had tried to be brave.

And Mr. Snape had not been angry at him after he had seen how bad he always was so that uncle Vernon had to punish him and he had given him the blankie and the plushie _after_ that even. Surely no one else would have given him those things after they had seen how bad he always was and that his uncle had to punish him so often because he was so bad.

Sighing he closed his eyes and cradled Mr. Moo closer to him, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent the plushie wore, the same scent Mr. Snape had on his shirt, the scent of something he never had smelled before. It reminded him at something, he knew that, but he couldn't remember what it was. He wasn't even sure if it really was only similar to something he knew or if it was the same scent but he simply didn't remember what it was.

"The moment Arthemius was back at home the mare was gone and there only stood the girl again, smiling at him, while his clothes too were back to the old rags he always was wearing." Mr. Snape read and he felt himself falling into a soft something while he listened to his teacher's dark and smooth voice that got softer and softer while he, Harry, struggled to stay awake. "And with a word of thanks he turned and entered the house, knowing that he would have to prepare his brother's beds, knowing that they would be tired after … delicious dinner they had and … return he closed his eyes … reminded himself at the Kings words whenever … teased him at how beautiful the palace and the ballroom … they had heard … chosen one of the boys … has your eyes, Lily … if only he were our … love you …"

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Quietly Severus closed the book and placed it at the table beneath the windowsill he always was sitting at while reading and with a flick of his wand he had the cartons of milk at the table, the names of the children written on them before he ran his hand over his face.

He hated the fact that they could do nothing about Harry's situation, at least not now. He would like to get the boy out of his aunt and uncle's house right now instead of sending him home to those monsters that not only neglected, starved him but beat him too, and in a way that simply was unacceptable, cruel and …

With a sigh he walked over to the boy, ignoring the door being opened quietly, and he kneeled beside the child, took the blanket Harry still had not dared to actually use and covered the small child, tucked the edges around him so he would be comfortable.

Standing he turned to face Gwendolyn and he lifted his eyebrow at seeing Miss Davenport standing close to the door, watching him. He had been sure that it would be Gwendolyn.

He didn't know it for sure, but he had the feeling that the young lady had an eye on him and he knew that he soon would have to make sure that – he simply had no interest. If he would not make this point clear soon, the woman only would get her hopes up and thus she would be hurt just the more later on.

Calmly he walked over to the older woman that had entered his classroom.

"I have to admit, you surprise me, Mr. Snape." The headmistress quietly said, sitting down onto one of the small chairs and he sat down at one of the small tables. It was big enough so he could sit at it as if he sat at a chair, he noticed and he had to admit that the blasted woman was right.

He, Severus Snape, acting as a pre-school teacher in a classroom that held furniture made for dwarves and reading little snots stories for toddler, handing out cartons of milk to them and tucking them in – yes, he could see how one would be surprised by that.

"I thought that during the first day one or another of the children would come running to me, crying and sobbing or that one of their mothers would come to me when collecting their children after they have been in your care for the first day, complaining." Miss Davenport continued when he didn't give an answer. "You have to admit that you do not look like being a caring teacher for pre-scholars. You rather look grumpy and harsh, dark, for the children surely scary even. Yet – I watch you caring for them as much as Miss Adams had cared about them."

"Of course I do." He said, nearly growled at her unspoken accusation that he would be unfit of caring for a horde of little snots. "They may be little monsters, toddlers I am not used to, but they are my students right now and I do take my responsibilities seriously, I _do_ care about my students."

"Little monsters indeed." The headmistress laughed. "And yet I see that you have managed to get them all asleep. Even little Harry seems rather peaceful right now. He never looked so relaxed and peaceful in his nap when Miss Adams had been here."

"That might be because of Mr. Moo." He smirked.

"Mr. Moo?" The woman asked, unimpressed by his smirk.

"The stuffed toy." Severus answered, looking over at the boy that still held the snake closely cradled to his chest. "It is filled with herbs, lavender flowers, melissa leaves and tangerine leaves."

At this Miss Davenport blinked at him for a moment before she smiled at him, causing him to growl in frustration. Why did this blasted woman have to smile at him? He didn't like people smiling at him! He wasn't a teddy bear that could be held and cuddled, and smiled at! He was a Potions Master and he was a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake!

"You have more qualities than I originally thought." She said. "Surely your students at Hathaway must miss you."

"Those from my house – most of them, yes, therefore a _small_ part of the student body." He growled. "Those from the other three houses – no, all of them are with one hundred percent certainty glad that they won't have to deal with my presence at the castle for an entire school year. I am not a teddy bear to be cuddled but a strict and demanding teacher, harsh and dangerous if I need to be as the subject I teach is a dangerous one. I am not used to such small children and I even at Hathaway prefer teaching the sixteen and seventeen year old students to the eleven year old I have to deal with each year."

"And yet you provide a small child that needs comfort with a blanket and a stuffed toy named Mr. Moo that is filled with calming herbs and you provide a small child that needs help with food and rest." The blasted woman said, persisting. "You read them a story and put them to rest for their nap and none of them is too upset for actually sleeping. You might not be a teddy bear, Mr. Snape, even I can see that, but from what I can see, you _are_ capable of handling those small children. However, I originally came down here to tell you that after the afternoon classes we will have another staff meeting."

"I will be there." He grumpily answered.

Again the blasted headmistress smiled at him, probably thinking that he might be a strict teacher, but a good man generally and he only could think – if the woman only knew who he really was, what he had done, what he was – she would not smile at him so kindly, she would kick him out of her school before he even were able to know what had hit him.

With a sigh he went towards his desk.

He would have to speak with Gwendolyn – about her feelings. And he would have to speak to the headmistress about Harry and David. He would have to speak to Howell – about whom he thought best bringing into this. And he would have to speak to the Dursleys, at Saturday. He had been sure that Petunia would withdraw her invitation, but she had not done so, and therefore – the invitation still stood, if he liked it or not.

For a moment he wondered what this visit would be like.

He of course would have to be very careful so he would not give himself away, about their knowledge of Harry's upbringing. For a moment he snorted. Upbringing! Neglect and abuse!

However, if they learned about his knowledge, he knew that the small child he had disliked so much just a few days ago would have to pay for it. He knew that most likely the boy would not be present on Monday then and he did not like this particular idea. And not only the idea of the child being beaten because of his knowledge, because he had given his knowledge away, being hurt again, but the idea of the child missing yet another breakfast and lunch, missing rest, if he were not here at Monday as well.

And he would have to talk with Harry about his visit too, before he would visit, before Saturday. He would have to prepare the boy that maybe he would seem uncaring while he _did_ care, and he would have to prepare the boy so that he did not appear too thankful towards him, Severus, for providing him with breakfast and lunch, with bedding and a stuffed toy, and with rest.

Merlin, what a mess!

If only everything would go well. If only neither he nor the child would give away anything during this afternoon tea with the Dursleys, if only they would find a solution soon, for both boys, David Arlington as well as Harry Potter. And if only Gwendolyn would cease her feelings towards him before he would have to talk to her about such a thing. He would do nearly everything if only he would not have to have such a talk with the other teacher.

Yes – what a mess indeed!

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**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_A routine starts at St. Catherine and a meeting at the grocery … _

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	10. Petunia and Yvonne

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

June, 21st 2011

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Added Note:**

I do know that many of you will scream injustice while reading this chapter, that many of you will say it's far fetched and impossible, not realistic – but well – I've always followed my instincts while writing, and I do so this time as well … you simply will have to bear with me and my silly ideas …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_Merlin, what a mess!_

_If only everything would go well. If only neither he nor the child would give away anything during this afternoon tea with the Dursleys, if only they would find a solution soon, for both boys, David Arlington as well as Harry Potter. And if only Gwendolyn would cease her feelings towards him before he would have to talk to her about such a thing. He would do nearly everything if only he would not have to have such a talk with the other teacher._

_Yes – what a mess indeed!_

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter ****ten**

**Petunia and Yvonne**

She really had thought that Mr. Snape would do something inappropriate the moment she had seen him with little Harry in front of the rest room. She didn't generally think of her teachers touching the children, but Mr. Snape not only was new and she didn't know him, but he also was a rather strange man, one that definitely was hiding something, and seeing him with the boy alone in front of a room that wasn't used under normal conditions, she for a moment had feared the worst.

But she had learned that the situation wasn't normal and she had been startled out of her mind for a moment upon seeing the boy being so badly bruised. She – as capable with the children as she was – surely wouldn't have been able to handle this particular situation, but Mr. Snape had shown a professionalism that had her thinking the entire day.

And then she had visited his classroom and had watched him tucking in little Harry with the blanket the man had bought for the boy, and she knew that the younger man had done so.

She had been a bit curious, she had to admit, the moment Mr. Snape had told her that little Harry would be a student at Hathaway Academy, even a bit startled. She never had questioned the Dursleys about Harry's parents, and she never had thought about them either. They were dead, had died in a car crash, and Harry was living with his aunt and uncle since he was a year old.

But now learning that they had visited an academy like Hathaway and that they – upon the boy's birth, mind you! – had registered their son there as well, had even already paid the school fees for all seven years he would attend this private school, that was a thought that had her startled somewhat.

She knew that the Dursleys had money, but she also knew that they didn't spent once cent more at Harry than they absolutely had to and therefore the child looked poor, his clothes Dudley Dursley's old hand-me downs that were stained and often perforated, not to mention too large for the smaller boy to begin with, even the shoes and the jacket the boy at least was provided with during winter, were too large and worn.

And yet – Harry's parents, she realized, must have been very wealthy if they had been able to pay school fees for seven years for a school like Hathaway.

She'd had a look on the internet of course, after Prodessor Dumbledore had called her, had been looking for that school, and what she had seen – well, she had been very impressed. It rather was a castle, and an impressive one, than a normal school and the fees had been _very_ high. She doubted that a family with a simple average income would be able to pay those fees yearly, and the Potters had – on the spur of the moment – paid them for seven years in advance at the boy's birth. They must have been very wealthy indeed.

What had happened to that money? Had the Dursleys gotten it after the Potter's death? Were they as rich as they actually were because of the Potter's money? Did they live off that child's parents' money without proving the boy with even the most basic needs like food and clothes?

That poor child indeed, and those poor parents. If they knew, she was sure they would turn in their graves.

But how did Mr. Snape – Professor Snape, fit into this school? This man definitely did not look like a teacher on an elite academy like Hathaway, and yet – he was. She had seen his picture on the site as well – Severus Snape, Chemistry Professor and the head of one of the houses at the academy, a house that held about 70 students. The man would be fit to act headmaster of a small school, he surely had the profession for this.

And now he was away from his school and from his students, teaching on a small pre-school in a suburban municipality, he surely must be feeling very out of place here. And yet – he did very well with the little ones. With a heavy sigh she watched the dark man leaving the staff room after their second briefing this day.

Deep in thought Severus Snape left the staff room and strode along the corridor.

Tomorrow he would have to talk with Harry about his visit at the Dursleys on Saturday. He of course had already considered to simply ignore the invitation, fearing what this might do to the child if just a tiny bit went wrong, but he also knew that if he didn't visit, then probably the Dursleys would make their disappointment air towards the child. Something he didn't wish. This wasn't anymore about him wanting to visit the Dursleys or not, and neither was it anymore about him making a mistake during such a visit, nor about Harry making a mistake during his visit at his relatives' house. No, this had become much more dangerous meanwhile, and he knew this. He had such dangerous visits every now and then when it came to the Death Eater children and their parents. But those were eleven to seventeen year old students who knew exactly what to expect of him during such a visit, how to react during such a visit and that any display at their homes only was a show and not to be taken seriously.

Not so Harry. Harry was a five year old child who neither would know how to act, nor who would know what to make of his show. And that he had to play an act, that much was clear.

On the other hand – it was Potter, for Merlin's sake. Would it be so bad if the brat thought he really hated him? Would it be so bad if the brat thought he really didn't care? Would it be so bad if the brat were really disappointed and hurt by his act?

And with an angry growl at himself he noticed that – yes, it were. And yet – he couldn't change it in the first place. He would have to visit as he didn't know what the Dursleys would do to the boy if he did not, and he would have to play an act as the Dursleys surely would be anything than pleased if they knew he cared about the boy.

The boy … The Boy Who Lived … Potter … Harry …

During their nap he once more had reached out with his senses and – again he had been able to feel the room reacting to the magic of the child. Again he had felt the boy's magical signature reaching out to the room, carefully and hesitantly as if he dared something forbidden that would warrant a horrible punishment if he were caught, and the room reacting to the child's magic soothingly, comfortingly, as if wrapping the child itself into a soft and warm blanket, and suddenly he understood.

Harry indeed thought that he did something forbidden.

He was a wizard. But as it seemed, the Dursleys had not told him that he was one, but they bestowed the same hate over the child Petunia had showed towards him, Severus, for being a wizard and towards her sister, Lily, for being a witch – and suddenly he knew that the child had been 'punished' for doing magic, for displaying accidental magic, and so he of course feared that he now did something forbidden, something that would warrant a horrible punishment.

Merlin!

Would the boy even dare using magic consciously when he came to Hogwarts?

Most likely not, he had to admit, knowing that most likely the child would fear using his magic then, _then_ maybe even more than he already feared it now, if they did not act soon to get the child out of that house and as far away from that family as possible – and preferably before the child would be rendered to a squib!

And what he understood too was – this room here at St. Catherine – this room here did not simply react to Harry's hesitant, hidden magic like his nursery at home would. No, this room here _was_ the child's nursery. Not a room in his home where he slept and kept his things in, where he lived in and where he felt safe, because there simply was no such room at Privet Drive for that child. No, this room here, the raccoon classroom, this was the child's nursery.

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"Yvonne, dear!" Petunia Dursley's voice sounded through the grocery in Little Whinging while she hurried over to her friend.

"Petunia!" Came the answer, the other woman abandoning her cart to meet Petunia Dursley halfway. "How nice to meet you, how are you, dear?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Petunia Dursley said and for the first time in a long time there was something else on his face than a sour expression. "What's about you?"

"I'm fine as well, you _do_ look good, Petunia, I have to say, really, what happened?" Yvonne asked, eyeing her friend suspiciously. "Did Vernon have a stroke and left you with his money?"

"Hush, Yvonne!" Petunia Dursley shushed the other woman, looking around nervously. "People will hear you!"

"So what, come on, Petunia! Everyone knows what a bastard he is and …"

"Please, Yvonne!" Petunia said, frightened. "We'll all be in real trouble!"

"Oh, well, dear!" Yvonne sighed, shaking her head. "You know what, Pet? Finish your shopping and then we'll go to my house for a nice cup of coffee. I know how much you like coffee."

The thin woman's face lit up at this and quickly they finished their shopping, both of them chatting about the weather and Dudley's last birthday while doing so.

The way over to Yvonne's house was short but both women breathed a sigh of relief the moment they were inside and the door was closed.

"Now, tell me what happened, Petunia dear!" Yvonne said while she placed her shopping bag onto the kitchen table and took the milk, butter and eggs from the bag, put them into the fridge.

"You won't believe it, Yvonne, but I've met someone." Petunia said, actually smiling while she took the bread and the rolls from her friend's bag, put them at the side of the kitchen counter where the bread cutter was, and Yvonne lifted her eyebrow at her friend, regarding the other woman with a thoughtful look in her blue eyes.

Petunia really looked good, she noticed. Of course she was a thin scarecrow and of course she could see the lines of worry in her face still, but her eyes for the first time since years showed some kind of hope.

"Really?" She asked, grinning evilly. "One should think that it's normal meeting people from time to time."

"Yvonne!" Petunia cried out.

"Alright, alright." The other woman laughed. "Whom did you meet?"

"Severus Snape!" Petunia smiled, while she took a package of cleaning sponges from the brown haired woman's bag.

"Sounds like the name of a – _man_." Yvonne said. "Petunia Dursley! Surely you won't think of betraying your husband."

Petunia was just about to open the door of the cabin beneath the sink to put away the cleaning sponges, but at her friend's words she straightened and turned, looked at the other young woman, a scared expression on her face.

"Oh, come now, Petunia!" Yvonne shook her head and went over to the startled woman, ignoring the flinch she gave away at her approach and took the sponges from her hands. "You should know me better than that, dear! How often did I tell you that you should take Harry and leave Vernon? Do you really think I would tell on you if you started something with another man now?"

"Sorry, Yvonne." Petunia said, taking a deep breath.

"Forget it." Yvonne said, aiming and then throwing the sponges into the sink. "And now tell me of this man you've met!"

"I don't want to start something with him, honestly, Yvonne, I've enough trouble with one man, who would want another one? And never would _he_ start something with me either. He's been in love with Lily, but he never had an eye for me. But oh, you _do_ have to meet this man, dear!" Petunia obediently answered, excitement back in her eyes. "He's such a polite and courteous man, and he looks so well dressed, not like he'd been looking when he was a child."

"So, you know him from your childhood?"

"Yes." Petunia sat down while Yvonne started the coffee maker. "He was a friend of Lily, and back then I didn't like him because he was so strange. But honestly, I've grown and I've learned a lot out of my mistakes. And my biggest mistake ever had been marrying Vernon."

"I've told you so years ago, Petunia." Yvonne said, shaking her head. "Nice that you finally see reason."

"There never has been anyone who really could have done something." Petunia tried to defend herself. "I had to lay low as good as possible, what do you think would have happened if I went against Vernon openly?"

"I would have helped you, you stupid woman!" Yvonne cried out, desperately. She had tried to tell Petunia just this over and over again since years now.

"And would have gotten into trouble just as well." Petunia growled. "Don't you think that it's enough that Harry and I are in constant trouble with Vernon?"

"You think that I couldn't have defended myself?"

"Against the police and any other institution here at Little Whinging? You're fooling yourself!"

"I don't know, Petunia, you've never allowed me doing anything after all! But now tell me of this man, you sound more than just excited."

"Well, like I said, he has changed." Petunia said, leaning back. "I didn't tell him that I remember his name. I've met him in the grocery, and you know, you never know who will listen there. He really looks good and he really looks like a proud man now. He's the pre-school teacher here at Little Whinging, Yvonne, and he has overtaken Harry's class! Do you know what that means?"

"That most likely he will find out something." Yvonne immediately said. "And then Harry will get into trouble – again."

"Not necessarily." Petunia said, taking the cup of coffee Yvonne reached her and she took a sip, savoring the taste. "I know Severus Snape, and I know that if there is someone who can protect Harry, then it's him. He would be able to take Harry away, and maybe … oh, never mind that, he never would take me with him as well."

"You can't know this, Petunia." Yvonne took her own cup of coffee to the table, watching Petunia with a smile. She knew how much her friend liked coffee, but Vernon Dursley, that bastard, never would allow her drinking coffee at home – just because he knew that she liked coffee, because he could use that to show her that he was the male in the house who had the saying. "You're however right, maybe Harry would get into trouble, yes, but if this man really could do something finally, then it surely would be worth a try."

"I do know, believe me." The woman shook her head sadly. "He wouldn't help _me_! He doesn't know me now, he thinks I hate Harry and everything that has to do with his world. I don't even know how to contact him safely so that Vernon wouldn't notice."

"You could visit pre-school."

"Vernon would hear about that from Weldon and he would ask why I've been there aside from bringing Dudley."

"Then you could call him."

"You know that he gets a list of the numbers that are dialed!"

"You could write a short note and put it into Harry's school bag."

"No, I couldn't." Petunia shook her head, miserably. "Vernon still is at home in the mornings when Harry leaves the house. I can't even give him a lunch without Vernon noticing! Damn, on Monday I've bought three rolls and gave Harry one. Do you know how much I feared that he accidentally would tell Vernon? He's only a five year old and he could have let slip something. I even had to hide it from Dudley. Dudley would have told his father immediately! You don't know what a walk on the tightrope this is day for day."

"I _do_ know, Petunia." Yvonne said seriously. "But if you really think that this man could do something to help, then you will have to take risks."

"And what if I'm wrong and he couldn't help? It only would go worse and I fear what he would do to Harry then."

"You do not have the guarantee that Vernon wouldn't kill the boy if you keep laying low, Petunia. One day he might kill him nevertheless. I think you should take the risk."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The moment Harry finally reached Number four, Privet Drive, he really was tired.

He knew that uncle Vernon was already at home and he knew that he most likely would get into trouble for taking so long, but really, it had been so nice imagining that Mr. Snape were his father. He wouldn't mind the man's other children, honestly, he would be really good and he would never argue with his siblings then.

Of course he over and over again had tried to smash that thought, because he knew how very, _very_ wrong this thought was, how freakish and how – simply _wrong_!

It was intruding, and it was … he didn't know what it was aside from that it was freakish and wrong and that uncle Vernon surely would beat the hell out of him for that thoughts. And yet – they were just so comforting, the thoughts that maybe he might have his teacher taking him away and being his father.

He knew better than to open the door and entering the house without permission like Dudley would do. This wasn't his home here after all, he wasn't welcomed here after all, he only was the nephew of uncle Vernon and he knew his place, and so he knocked at the door and then waited for it being opened.

It luckily wasn't uncle Vernon who opened the door but aunt Petunia, and he released his breath with relief.

Of course aunt Petunia wasn't friendly with him, but at least she didn't beat him like uncle Vernon did and at least she sometimes put him into his cupboard and gave him a slice of bread or something else. He wasn't stupid, and he knew that aunt Petunia put him into his cupboard then so that Dudley wouldn't see, and he also knew that aunt Petunia feared he might say something to uncle Vernon, but that was stupid. He didn't talk with uncle Vernon anyway.

"Get inside, boy." Aunt Petunia said. "Quickly."

He quickly obeyed stepping inside the house and again he knew better than doing anything else than going straight to the kitchen where he knew uncle Vernon had already laid out a list of chores, most likely cleaning the kitchen and preparing dinner before doing the laundry and the dishes later on.

Seeing that the kitchen already was clean he knew that most likely aunt Petunia had done this already because he had dawdled on his way home from pre-school and immediately he felt guilty. It wasn't the first time that aunt Petunia did, but he also knew that uncle Vernon didn't like it if she did, and so he took potatoes from beneath the counter and started washing them while he remembered the afternoon in pre-school.

**Flashback**

_He knew that he had to go soon and he also knew that he couldn't take Mr. Moo with him. _

_Not only did none of the other children take their plushies home with them as they were meant to stay at pre-school, but he also knew that if he came home with Mr. Moo, then uncle Vernon most likely would burn his plushie in the fire in the living room. And if he came back to pre-school tomorrow then without Mr. Moo, then Mr. Snape surely would get very angry with him for not taking better care of the precious snake. _

_But he would like to take Mr. Moo home with him! _

_He didn't know why Mr. Snape had given Mr. Moo to him, as it was clear that he was very precious to him. Imagine! He had gotten a plushie from his teacher! And one he'd had when he had been a child himself no less! For a moment he imagined Mr. Snape as a small boy and cradling the snake and looking over at the dark and stern man – he simply didn't manage imagining this. This man was simply too stern and too dark and too harsh. He surely never had been a child! _

_But he had said that he'd had Mr. Moo when he'd been a child!_

_"Mr. Moo still will be here when you come back tomorrow, Potter." He heard Mr. Snape's voice from beside him and startled he looked up._

_That was another thing with Mr. Snape. None of the other teachers called them by their surnames, but Mr. Snape sometimes did. Not often, at least the others he didn't call by their surnames often, only when he was annoyed at them, but he called him by his surname rather often. _

_Did that mean that Mr. Snape was annoyed at him often? But why had he then given Mr. Moo to him then? And the blankie and the pillow? _

_Cradling Mr. Moo to his chest one last time he breathed in the scent once more, savoring the smell of the snake before he crawled over his mat and placed it onto the pillow, covering it with the soft blankie._

_He liked this blankie too. It was really thin, but it was warm and soft nevertheless and it smelled just like Mr. Moo and Mr. Snape, and he liked the combination of blue and green. He really had slept very, very, very well this afternoon and Mr. Snape even had to wake him so he could partake in the afternoon lesson. But the pillow and the blankie had been just so, so soft!_

_"Dank 'ou." He whispered the moment he scrambled off his mat, remembering that he hadn't thanked the man before. He had been just too excited and he had felt too strange upon being given a gift, and not even on his birthday! And so he hadn't thought of thanking the teacher for giving all those things to him, but Mr. Snape hadn't said something about it, had not reprimanded him for not thanking him earlier._

_"You are quite welcome, Harry." Mr. Snape said and his voice sounded softer now, and he used his given name again. He liked it when the man used his given name, no one ever had done so aside from the teachers, and with a sigh and a last look at Mr. Moo he went over to the bench were he had his shoes._

**End**** flashback**

He hesitantly had gone over to Mr. Snape after he had gotten his shoes on, and for a moment he had not dared giving him his hand. He knew that all the other children did, and he also knew that they even _had_ to, but he never had done so and Miss Adams never had insisted on this.

Mr. Snape had, on Tuesday morning, and on Tuesday evening, but not so this morning. Most likely he had forgotten because he had picked him up on his way to pre-school.

However, Mr. Snape simply had watched him, had stood in front of him and had looked down at him, waiting, without doing anything or saying anything and the moment he, Harry, had lifted his hand, he had taken it with a nod of his head and he had seen a strange look on the man's face. One that clearly said that he was satisfied, but there had been something else in the man's harsh face that he hadn't been able to read, that he hadn't know what it had been.

For a moment the thought that the man had been proud of him had crossed his mind, but he quickly had discarded this thought, because surely no one ever could be proud at him!

Placing the potatoes into the pot and filling it with water from the sink he put it onto the cooker and turned on the cooking top before he took the sausages from the fridge and started cutting them into slices.

Never mind what, never mind if his thoughts were forbidden and wrong, and never mind if his thoughts were freakish and so very, very to keep them to himself … and never mind how harsh and dark Mr. Snape was, never mind how stern he was and how scary his black eyes were … he liked Mr. Snape.

But he never would tell anyone!

Never!

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_Severus preparing Harry for his visit at the Dursleys and placing a sandwich in Harry's lunchbox again ..._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	11. the Potions Master and the child

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

July, 1st 2011

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_Placing the potatoes into the pot and filling it with water from the sink he put it onto the cooker and turned on the cooking top before he took the sausages from the fridge and started cutting them into slices._

_Never mind what, never mind if his thoughts were forbidden and wrong, and never mind if his thoughts were freakish and so very, very to keep them to himself … and never mind how harsh and dark Mr. Snape was, never mind how stern he was and how scary his black eyes were … he liked Mr. Snape. _

_But he never would tell anyone!_

_Never!_

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter ****eleven**

**The Potions Master and the child**

This time the boy had not looked so startled anymore upon being picked up by him on his way to pre-school than he had looked the day before, but nevertheless he had not leaned over to close the door when Harry had not managed so by himself but had gotten off the car to close it.

Again they did not speak on their way and upon reaching their destiny Snape simply led Harry into the building where he seated the boy at the table. He however noticed the quick glance little Harry threw towards his mat at first and with a nearly satisfied smirk he noticed the small smile that for a moment showed on the child's face when he noticed that Mr. Moo as well as the blanket and the pillow still were there, untouched, Mr. Moo still being covered with the soft fabric. Without a word he got a box with toast he had brought and a box with sausages out of his bag and placed two plates onto the table.

"I want you to drink this each morning before breakfast." The Potions Master said, uncorking a small vial and placing it onto the table in front of the boy, beside a cup and a small pot of hot chocolate. "It will help your body working the food you are eating over a bit better." He tried to explain a nutrient potion so that the boy would understand. "And now eat!"

Well, if he had thought that it would be so easy, telling the boy to eat and then he would reach for the food – well, then he had been clearly wrong, because the boy didn't and with a defeated sigh he put one of the buttered toasts and a sausage unto the boy's plate before taking one for himself, knowing that the boy surely would eat more carefree if he did not have to eat alone.

For a moment Harry however just sat there, watching him warily and startled, and so he simply pointed at the vial that still stood in front of the child.

"The syrup." He growled, catching himself just in time before saying 'the potion'.

The boy blinked at him for a moment longer before he reached for the vial, his fingers trembling, and downed its contents. The Potions Master nearly chuckled at the face the boy made, the entire small form of the child shuddering for a moment at the taste.

"Yucky." The boy murmured while placing the vial back onto the exact spot from where he had taken it.

"I know." Snape said. "But it is imperative that you take it each morning while being here. And now eat."

And to his utter surprise – the boy did.

They ate in silence for some time, Severus wondering how to start the conversation he knew was important, concerning his visit at the Dursleys the next day, and Harry savouring a breakfast he never before had _had_ in his short life – toast and sausages, and hot chocolate.

He didn't know why Mr. Snape gave him so much, the food and the blanket and Mr. Moo, and caring for his hurts. He had feared that surely Mr. Moo was gone today, that Mr. Snape had taken him back, and the blanket and the pillow too, but they still had been there. Mr. Moo had been there and the blanket and the pillow too had been there still. Mr. Snape had given those things to him and he had not taken them away while he had been gone.

And he gave him something to eat since days now! He'd thought that surely he would stop soon, realizing that it was too much of a bother, taking food to the pre-school for him too, but he hadn't. He still brought breakfast and it always was something different, not old bread that had green spots and smelled yucky, but things that tasted really yummy. Things the _other_ children were eating here at pre-school too, like apples and pears and yoghurt and now toast and sausages. Would he really continue doing so?

But that wasn't all even! Because now the man even gave him something that sounded to him like medicine.

He remembered that his aunt and uncle never gave him medicine. Dudley got medicine when he was ill, but never he. But did this mean that he too was ill? But if he were ill, then what was it he was ill with? And wherefrom had Mr. Snape known that he was ill and what he would need? Mr. Snape was a pre-school teacher, not a doctor, wasn't he?

But it really had tasted bad, he remembered, suppressing a new shudder that surely would make the man angry after he had done so much, like something akin to rotten eggs. Luckily the taste had not lingered upon his first sip he had taken from the hot chocolate.

_That_ – definitely had been the best thing he ever had tasted in his life. He had smelled it before, when Dudley got it at breakfast, but he never before had been allowed to drink it himself. And now Mr. Snape had allowed him. And he even had breakfast together with him! So – did this mean that it wasn't the leftovers from breakfast he'd had with his own children earlier?

He really didn't understand. This all was so strange!

"I need you to listen for a moment before I take you to the rest room, Harry." Severus said after he had watched the boy for a while, how he had closed his eyes while drinking from the hot chocolate, how he had nearly smiled, how he slowly chewed on the toast and the sausage. Alone the thought of this child being spoiled rotten – it was such a ridiculous thought that he wondered how in Merlin's name he could have thought that to begin with. It was very clear that the child never before had been given hot chocolate even! Or toast and sausages, for that matter.

"Sir?" The boy's question got him out of his thoughts and he shifted his gaze to the green eyes that watched him warily.

"I have been invited at your aunt's house for tomorrow afternoon." He said, knowing that beating around the bush would not help the situation at all. He never beat around the bush, he always called the things by their respectable names. And yet – the next reaction the boy showed told him that maybe he should have taken a different approach this time. Harry was no eleven or twelve year old student he normally had similar words with, but a five year old child still and his reaction showed just this. The boy first froze in his seat for a moment before shaking his head and then leaving his chair, turning on the spot and starting to run – and quickly he reached over, just like he had done the day before upon telling him that he would provide him with breakfast and lunch each day at pre-school, and grabbed the boy's upper arm, keeping him from running away.

"Do hear me out, Harry." He said, pulling the struggling child close and sat him back into the chair, but he immediately knew that it would be to no avail. The boy was already in the midst of a panic attack and he wouldn't even understand what he would try to tell him.

"Stay right here." He said, while concentrating onto the door, knowing that he neither could summon the calming draught in front of the boy nor that he could pull his wand to lock the door in front of the child either. A moment later a soft tingling that run through his hand which he had waved at the entrance told him that the door indeed was locked and again he told the boy to stay here, seated at the table, only then releasing the small form.

He went to his desk where he had placed his bag including one potion or another – just in case – and took out the purple one. The moment he came back to Harry however, the boy was already on the far side of the room, giving the door one last try of being opened before he tried to make himself as small as possible against the wall, watching him with wide and scared eyes.

Quietly he went over to the child, trying to move slowly, trying to appear not as a threat in any way, trying to not startle the child any more than he already was.

"Calm down, Harry." He softly said. "I won't hurt you, I promise. I know that it won't be easy, but try and trust me, I will not hurt you."

Well, he had known that he just as well could have spoken to the wall itself as the boy understood not a single word of what he said and once again he cursed the Dursleys under his breath. They had turned an innocent child into a frightened, scared and panicky trembling mess that right now covered on the floor in the corner where he had slipped to.

Well, the child surely felt safe in this corner, yes, having two walls near to protect him while only one way was left to approach him, one way he easily could survey, but those two walls at the same time trapped him also, he had no way of escape in that corner and slowly the Potions Master knelt down, reached for the boy's arms and a moment later he had the child in a secure grip. And before the boy could say anything, Snape put the flask to Harry's mouth and massaged his throat for the liquid to go down. Harry was only half way fighting right now, but he knew the moment when the boy felt his incredible fear subsiding, the moment he finally relaxed in his teacher's arms.

"That's it, child." Snape whispered, not ready to release the child right now but keeping him in his arms. "Just calm down. Everything is just fine, Harry, you are safe here and nothing will happen to you. I won't hurt you. Come now, take a deep breath. That's a good boy! You are doing this very well. And now listen, child." He started to explain again when he felt that the small child in his arms had calmed down – somewhat at least. "Just listen and hear me out. I have been invited to your aunt's house tomorrow afternoon for tea. I promise you however, that I will not tell your aunt and uncle of anything that has happened here at pre-school. And I need you to _not_ say something either. I will try to keep the conversation away from you as best as possible, and I will try to appear as neutral as possible. Do you understand this?"

"You not mad?" The boy asked, his voice trembling.

"No, I am not mad, child." Snape quickly confirmed, wondering what the child was thinking. Why should he be mad? "I am not mad, you have done nothing wrong. Do you understand what I just told you?"

The boy nodded at him, his green eyes still wary and unsure, the word fear still clearly written in them. Well, so now would come the more difficult part.

"Very good." He said. "Now listen, and it is important that you do understand and believe me. It might be that at one point or another while being at your aunt's house I will look angry, but believe me, child, I will _not be_ angry at you. It also might be that at one point or another I will look as if I did not care about you, but believe me, _I do_ care. I just fear what they might do to you if they learn that I care and help you."

"I know." The boy said and for a moment it was _him_ who blinked stupidly at the boy. "Dey mad den."

"Yes, I fear that they would be." He admitted. "I also cannot be openly on your side while being there, never mind how harsh they are to you, I cannot step in. I only can step in if they beat you in front of me." _That_ actually would be the proof he needed to immediately take the child with him. And even so he was not ready to risk this. "But that does not mean that I do not care. I _do_, Harry, and if I could avoid this visit, then I gladly would, but I fear what your relatives would do if they expected me and I did not visit."

"I know." The boy repeated, finally leaning his shoulder against his chest, starting to relax. "'m sowwy."

"It is not your fault, child." He said, running his hand over the boy's back. "I have to apologize for startling you, and for maybe making you doubt my care tomorrow. But believe me, I _do_ care."

"Know."

They sat there for a while longer, the Potions Master wondering how it was that this child did understand while any other child would have thrown a fit and demanded his care and understanding tomorrow, and the child wondering how it was that he did get so much care and worry from his teacher while he did not deserve it – until it was a few minutes past eight and Snape knew that soon the other children would arrive. And yet – he was reluctant of letting the child go so soon. The child had been startled, yes, but the second part had gone remarkably well, the child actually understanding that maybe he would seem careless and cold, opposed to him – he had not thought he would. And now the boy was still in his arms, leaning against his chest, his head resting on his shoulder while he, Severus Snape, was sitting on the floor.

"Shall we get you to the rest room so you can …" He started but then drifted off when he looked down and noticed that the boy indeed had already fallen asleep on him.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He had brought little Harry to the rest room, had tucked him in, standing there for a few minutes more and simply watching the child, but then he had gone back to the classroom. The other toddlers would arrive soon and he wanted the yoghurt and the berries in Harry's backpack before they were here and so he took the child's bag from the hook with the red train and took it over to his desk. He took the yoghurt and the bowl with the berries from his own bag to place it into the boy's, scowling at the lunch box he knew would be empty.

He put it aside a bit so that he could put the yoghurt and the bowl of berries into the bag when he noticed a small piece of paper.

Frowning he pulled it from the bag, expecting a picture Harry might have drawn, but the moment he opened the folded paper – he actually had to sit down.

It was a letter, and it was addressed to – _him_!

For a few more moments he blinked. A letter in Harry's bag? Addressed to him? It only could have been placed in there by either Vernon or Petunia Dursley, because Harry couldn't write yet and even if – it was clearly the handwriting of an adult. What did they want of him? What had they found out? And what would it mean for Harry?

Scowling at himself he looked back down at the paper and started reading.

'_Dear Severus,_

_I don't know if you remember me, but I remember you and I hope that you'll be able to help Harry, you've been Lily's friend after all. However, I have to be quick. I know that you're giving Harry lunch in school, but I ask you to not tell Vernon too much tomorrow. Please, try to keep the conversation away from the boy, as will I. Don't tell him that you care, please.  
I need to talk to you without Vernon noticing, I just don't know how yet. _

_Petunia'_

Blinking in confusion Severus reread the letter – before rereading it a second time.

That – definitely was unexpected.

So – Petunia _did_ care? And Petunia – somehow at least – feared Vernon Dursley just as much as Harry did? That really was unexpected.

But why then did the woman not pack lunch for the boy? Did Vernon Dursley have that much control over her? What was this man able to do in order to control her so much? Did he abuse her as well? And what about Dudley Dursley? That boy did not look as if being abused, he rather behaved like a bully himself and he knew for sure that Harry feared Dudley. Not to mention that Dudley Dursley looked anything than being starved or even neglected.

Why did she not simply leave her husband? Why did she not take both boys and leave the man? Surely she would find someone who would help her? Surely she would – well, not necessarily. If Vernon Dursley really was as influential as he at least seemed to be – then maybe no, then maybe she would not be able to simply take the children and leave that man – even if just out of fear. He knew what fear could do to a human after all.

Sighing he placed the yoghurt and the bowl with the berries into Harry's bag while he wondered if Harry had known about the letter his aunt had written and – most likely – smuggled beneath his empty lunch box, he however doubted it.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The children had arrived shortly after he had brought Harry's bag back to the hook with the red train and he had greeted them one by one before starting the morning in front of the carpet they usually met sitting at. He'd had them getting five Lego pieces and then had wanted them to tell the colours of the pieces they had chosen. After that he had asked them to draw a picture of a park with five trees, five benches, five people, or any things that belonged into a park – as long as there were five of them each.

And right now there was silence in the room – nearly at least – while the children were concentrating onto their drawings, some of them having their tongues sticking out between their teeth in concentration. They were chatting quietly and once or twice there was a fight over a crayon, but otherwise the little snots behaved far better than some of his first and second years he normally taught did.

The door opening made him looking up and he gave a curt nod at Harry who quietly slipped into the room.

The boy looked through the room for a moment, taking in the situation and then he hesitantly looked over at him, as if to ask if he were allowed to take a paper himself and again he nodded at the child.

Harry went over to the shelf where paper in different sizes and colours were kept and he took a blue coloured piece of paper. He went over to the neighbouring table and Snape frowned.

"Harry." He quietly called over to the child who looked up at him, startled, his eyes clearly holding the question as to what he might have done wrong and what the punishment to that would be. He wordlessly pointed to a free place at the large table in the middle of the room where all the other children were working at and he could see that the child only reluctantly came over to where he, Snape, were standing, unsurely and not only eyeing _him_ warily but the other children as well.

For a moment he looked over the other children's pictures but as it seemed Harry did know him by now rather well as he seemed to know that there surely had to be more than just drawing a park and so he looked over at him, questioningly.

"Draw a park with what you would like being in this park, trees, benches, people, whatever you like, Harry." Snape quietly explained. "You just need to draw five pieces of the things you chose each."

The boy nodded before only reluctantly started drawing, taking one of the black crayons that none of the other children had chosen.

"How many dogs did you draw there, Warren?" The Potions Master asked, frowning when looking at Warren Blacksmith's picture.

"That's no dogs!" The boy answered, looking at him and then back at the drawing.

"What are those then?" Snape asked, trying to figure out what exactly the dogs should be if they were no dogs.

"That's birds!" Warren said, looking at him with a scowl on his little face as if accusing him and he blinked at – the dogs that even had four legs, whiskers and a tail. "That's the tail feathers, see? And worms they'd picked, and that's the wings." The boy explained, pointing at first the tail, then the whiskers and finally the brown spots the – _dog_ – had on his fur.

"But your birds have four legs." The Potions Master pointed out.

"They're two." The boy said, taking the crayon and drawing a line beneath two of the legs and then another line beneath the other two legs so that the – bird – had rather thick legs now, repeating it with all the - birds - he had drawn.

"Alright, but how many birds did you draw there?" Snape then asked, lifting his eyebrow.

"Five!" The boy claimed.

"Then please count them, Warren."

"That's one, two, three, four, five, uhm … well …"

"Six." Snape answered for the boy who hit his palm against his head, making a face and quickly crossing the sixth bird out, grinning at him happily about having the problem solved and the Potions Master gave him a nod.

"Can you write my name at the picture, Mr. Snape?" Gabriel asked and he looked over at the boy. "I'm finished."

"I am sure that you can do so by yourself, Gabriel." Snape said, frowning at the boy.

"But you'll be quicker." The boy argued.

"You will be just as quick as I am with a bit more practice." The Potions Master said, his eyebrow lifted.

"But I forgot how to do it." Gabriel tried.

The Potions Master simply took one of the crayons and then wrote the boy's name onto an extra piece of paper.

"There you go, Gabriel." He simply said at the scowling boy.

"But you've written my name there already." The blasted child looked up at him, blinking hopefully. "You simply could tape the paper at my picture."

"Gabriel." Snape said sternly. "We are already over this. You can write your own name and you simply will do so."

"Alright." The boy gave in with a long and suffering sigh before turning his piece of paper and starting to write down his name.

Most of the other children had finished their pictures by now and Snape was busy writing names onto extra pieces of papers so that the children could copy their names onto their pictures. Only Isabelle and Harry were still drawing and he frowned at the picture of the girl who had drawn a lot of flowers and was now working on a bench while looking out of the window dreamingly.

Harry too was still drawing, but he was nearly finished. There were five black clouds in the sky, five black drops of water falling from one of them, five black benches lining the way he had drawn on one side and five trees lining the way on the other side, the trees the only thing in the picture so far that were a mixture of black trunks and green leaves and Snape immediately knew that the boy only had taken the green crayon because it had been free at the time without him having to ask one of the other children for that colour. Five black flowers were seated at one side of the pictures and two figures in black, one tall and one small, were standing on the way.

"You have drawn only two people there, Harry." He quietly said when the boy started to write his name into one corner, more _drawing_ an H than _writing_ it.

"Don' want mowe." Harry just as quietly answered, shaking his head and the Potions Master immediately knew the reason. The large black figure being him, Severus Snape, the child's teacher that had helped him and the small figure being the child, Harry Potter, that had no one until he had met him. Of course the child did not want other people in his picture.

Again he looked the small and thin form of the child over and noticing the five year old shivering while he tried to finish writing his name, he went over to the child's mat, picked up the boy's blanket. Picking up the still so dreadfully skinny young wizard and sitting down at one of the small chairs by the table, he sat the boy onto his lap and wrapped the blanket over the thin shoulders.

"I suggest you clear the table." He then said. "It's your time to put away the crayons, Eliot, and it's your turn to summon the pictures, Gabriella. Please take them to my desk. All others please take already your lunch bags and come over. We will having lunch inside until further notice. Would you please bring Harry's bag as well, David?"

"We're not going outside to play?" Warren asked the moment David nodded at him and turned to get both bags, his and Harry's and Warren looked at him startled.

"We will go outside to play, Warren, do not worry." He answered, pulling Harry closer to his chest, the boy having stopped shivering upon being wrapped up in the warm blanket and Snape's arms. "After we have finished lunch which we will have inside from now on."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_A nap and then Arthemius again, maybe the story ending, don't know yet …  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	12. Arthemius and David

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

June, 19th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_"I suggest you clear the table." He then said. "It's your time to put away the crayons, Eliot, and it's your turn to summon the pictures, Gabriella. Please take them to my desk. All others please take already your lunch bags and come over. We will having lunch inside until further notice. Would you please bring Harry's bag as well, David?"_

_"We're not going outside to play?" Warren asked the moment David nodded at him and turned to get both bags, his and Harry's and Warren looked at him startled._

_"We will go outside to play, Warren, do not worry." He answered, pulling Harry closer to his chest, the boy having stopped shivering upon being wrapped up in the warm blanket and Snape's arms. "After we have finished lunch which we will have inside from now on."_

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter ****twelve**

**Arthemius and ****David**

Eating with the children inside had been an easy affair, even more easy than it ever had been outside so far – despite the fact that there never had been any trouble with those little snots eating outside in the first place. They had been sitting around the large table that stood in the middle of the classroom and some of them had even shared their lunch, Gabriel not liking apples while Warren had brought grapes he had not liked, and so they had ended up eating the fruits from the other child.

Andrew, at that point, had wanted to exchange his sandwich with Gabriel's, but there he quickly had interfered, knowing that Andrew had an allergy and his body couldn't handle too much salt. His mother always baked the bread herself without salt and made sure that nothing with salt was on the sandwich either – and so he had explained to the boy that he couldn't allow him to exchange his sandwich with any other child, as sorry as he was about that. Andrew had pouted for a while, but he had accepted it in the end.

Watching Harry eating together with all the other children had been an eye opener to him and he soon had known that the boy would have trouble with an eating disorder, never mind that he got him used to eating now. He had managed eating _half_ of his yoghurt in the same time the other children had eaten their sandwiches _and_ their fruits, and after that he simply had not been able to go on eating anything more. He had insisted the child ate a few berries at least, even if he didn't manage his yoghurt, and Harry obediently had done so, again closing his eyes and savoring the taste of the berries, but he hadn't managed more than a few of them before stopping again, looking up at him as if he were afraid he would get angry if he stopped eating.

He had assured the boy that it was alright to stop eating before he would make himself ill, and then he had allowed them outside for an hour to play. And now he was about to read them another part of the story of Arthemius.

"Again the King had been left behind by the youth he had chosen, but this time he had ordered one of his ministers to watch and follow the child as soon as he would disappear and the minister did, following the boy through the shadows, unnoticed, down to the stables and quickly he had mounted one of the horses, not even caring about it being his own. He had to follow the boy as quickly as possible on the King's orders and he would do so. He followed the child to a house near the outskirts of the town, a house well cared for, and he watched the child jumping off the mare he had been riding, suddenly looking smaller than he had been before, suddenly looking a bit less impressive than he had been before, not knowing that the magic slowly dissolved. But he knew now where the boy lived and he quickly turned his own horse and rode back to the palace to give word back to the King."

Harry was back to cradling Mr. Moo to his chest, his blanket again laying like a second snake beside him instead covering him, his face turned towards David who lay beside him and Snape couldn't help considering the gratitude the boy always showed, never mind what was given to him. Today the boy even had smiled at him shyly when he had handed the carton of milk to him.

"I have found the child, Milord, the minister said upon entering the throne room, he lives in a plain but well cared for house near the outskirt of the town. You will bring me to the boy's home first thing tomorrow, the King ordered, his heart racing like mad. Tomorrow he would meet the boy again and tomorrow he would talk with the child's parents so that he could take him to the palace and claim him as his heir. He would teach him in the palace during the week and the boy could be at home with his parents at the weekends, and surely the child's parents would not deny the child such a chance."

A sigh from Harry made him looking up and over to the boy, seeing that clearly the child doubted this. He even was cradling Mr. Moo more tightly to his chest, taking a deep breath and inhaling the snake's scent, as if he knew that he surely would be denied such a thing as he even was denied such a simple thing like having a stuffed toy to begin with.

"The next morning came and the King personally rode to the town, accompanied by his ministers and guards. People left their houses, surprised, and they whispered amongst themselves after bowing deeply, because they were not used to seeing the King in town. The moment he reached the house he was already greeted by the father and his two sons who bowed before him for a moment. I have come because of your youngest son, the King said to the father who looked at one of the boys. That will be Miles here then, the father said but the King shook his head. No, I do not speak of this boy, I meant your other son, he answered. Oh, then you meant Ewan, the father said, glaring at the boy called Miles because he gave a disappointed growl at his brother's smirk. No, the King again shook his head, I do speak not of this boy either. I search for a child that lives here in this house but is younger than those two and has been to the hunt three weeks ago and at dinner in my palace last night."

Like always – most of the children were already dozing off, their eyes starting to close while they fought for staying awake and listening to the tale. Every now and then there was the soft sound of milk being sucked through a straw, but otherwise it was silent and again the Potions Master couldn't help wishing for his students at Hogwarts being as quiet and as attentive as those toddlers were. He didn't even have to take points by now, he realized. Not that here was such a system like points being taken or given. But they had something akin to traffic lights. Four disks made of carton that had the colors green, yellow, orange and red.

Each morning the green disk held wooden clothes-pegs with the names of the children on it and he could put them to the yellow disk if they didn't behave, from there to the orange disk and then to the red disk. No one had told him what would be a standard – _'punishment'_ – if the peg reached the red disk, but he simply gave said child a timeout, having the child sitting on a table near his desk for a few minutes, alone. It only had happened once so far though. Those children were young enough so that they wanted to please instead of causing troubles and they even were able to smile at him yet whenever he gave a praise while at the same time he somehow wasn't able to intimidate them as much as he did with the eleven year old snots at Hogwarts.

Those small children just didn't fear him but liked him instead!

Blasted imbeciles!

"You surely cannot mean Arthemius! Both boys immediately called out, startled and angered." He continued reading. "That awful and dirty boy hasn't been at the hunt and not at the dinner either. He's been working here. Get me that boy, the King ordered and with an angry face the father called for his step-son. The moment Arthemius appeared and kneeled before the King, bowing his head, the King smiled happily. This is the boy I was looking for, he exclaimed even though the boy was not as well dressed as he had been when he had seen him before and even though he was dirty and seemed younger and smaller. He was sure that it had been him nevertheless. What have you done, you little whelp! The father shouted angrily, taking the boy and lifting him off his knees, shaking him roughly, what have you done this time, so that the King has to come here in person! The King was startled for a moment upon such behavior but then he spoke up again, his voice sounding angry now."

Looking over at Harry he could see that the boy's face had become pale, as had David's, both children being close to crying at the story, and for a moment he had to take a deep breath before continuing.

"This boy has done nothing! The King angrily shouted. Release him this instant! I am here to take this boy with me to the palace where he will live with me and where he will be raised as my heir! What! All three snapped at the boy. Tell the King that you are just a dirty servant and cannot live in the palace! Can't you see how ugly Arthemius is! The father said. But then he was cut off, for a girl in poor clothes had appeared that transformed into a beautiful woman before their eyes. That is enough, the woman exclaimed calmly, raising her hand and in a flash Arthemius appeared in a plain but elegant black suit with a dark green cloak around his shoulders. The step-father and the step-brothers gaped at him in amazement. Bethany! The father called out, startled, but a moment later a mouse that had been sitting on the ground transformed into a tall and proud man. He as well lifted his hand, wordlessly, and a moment later Arthemius was armed with a bow and a quiver filled with black arrows."

Most of the children were already asleep by now, only Harry and David struggling with their dropping eyes, forcing themselves to stay awake so that they would know if the story had a happy end – and he could understand their need for this knowledge, that they both needed to know if at least this boy was taken away from his home where he had been unloved and unwelcomed, uncared for, beaten and starved, if _he_ at least would be taken to a better life as both of them surely didn't think they would have the same luck.

"We are Arthemius' parents and he has been forced to live here as a servant since our death. Was all the man said, addressing the King. The King nodded at both, the boy's mother and father who smiled at him kindly while they had their hands placed on their son's shoulders. Will you allow me to take your son to the palace and raise him as mine? He then asked and both the boy's parents gave their consent. Then come with me, child! He happily said. Because I do not have an heir and you will live with me in the palace as my son. Never ever again will you have to come back to this house where you had no happiness."

Looking over at the two boys he noticed a small smile on both their faces despite the tears that escaped their eyes.

"And so Arthemius went with the King to the palace where he lived happily ever after with his new father, the King, until the old man died many, many years later, leaving the throne to his son whom he had taken from a family that had neither loved him nor cared for him. As for the mouse, it happily nibbled at a piece of cheese while sitting in the kitchen where an young girl was hanging a pair of worn socks she had gotten from a boy many, many years ago."

Slowly and silently closing the book he took a deep breath. So – this story was over now and only Merlin knew how much would follow. But well – he had managed one, and he placed the book onto his desk before he went over to the two children that still tried to suppress their sobs.

"Sleep, Harry." He softly said upon taking the boy's blanket and folding it over the small form. "You too, David, sleep." He then added, tucking this boy's blanket closer around the child's form as well.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He'd had the children drawing a picture about Arthemius this afternoon and both, Harry and David had chosen to draw the boy being taken from his step-father and step-brothers by the King while most of the others had chosen to draw Arthemius while being at the hunt or at dinner with the King. Isabelle had drawn the mouse that was nibbling at a piece of cheese and Amelie had drawn – how could it has been otherwise – a cat instead of the mouse.

"Where in the story I have read to you has a cat been mentioned, Amelie?" He had asked, lifting his eyebrow and the girl had looked up at him, blinking at him as if she did not understand his problem.

"Uhm …" She eloquently had made. "No where. But I don't like mouses and want it being a cat."

"Mice." Severus hadn't been able to keep himself from correcting the girl. "It is one mouse but a few mice." He hadn't commented on the cat any further however. If the blasted girl that was obsessed with cats would like drawing a cat – then be it, as long as she realized that there had _not been_ a cat in the story but a mouse.

He surely would have given his Hogwarts students a 'T' for that, because they had been off topic – but well, it was a four year old toddler and surely not an eleven year old firsty. Not to mention that surely he would not have his potions students drawing a picture about a children's story!

But maybe he should have them drawing pictures about the potions they had to brew? Maybe _then_ they would understand the orders of the potions books better than if reading them? Maybe then they would be able to brew a decent potion for once? Pictures surely would be easier to read than a book for those imbeciles?

However – again, just like in the morning, Harry had drawn the King in black clothes, as well as Arthemius and he couldn't help thinking that the boy again had drawn him, Snape, taking him from his relatives. Merlin! He would do so, immediately, if he had the chance. But as it seemed – well, he had to wait and go the official muggle way – what proved to be a bit more difficult than he had thought, thanks to the boy's uncle having a bit too much influence and thanks to authorities that were corrupt.

David had come over to him during the nap time, his teddy bear cradled in his arms, and he again had lifted his small arms, wordlessly demanding to being picked up. He soon after had fallen back to sleep, leaning against his chest, just like the last time on Wednesday, and he just had been about to have a look at the boy's back to see if his bruises had healed – when Harry as well had come over to his desk, his green eyes sleepy and only halfway open but the small form that stood in front of him trembling, cradling Mr. Moo close to him.

He had not lifted his arms to demand being picked up, had only looked up at him pleadingly, his thumb stuck in his mouth while his other fingers were tightened into a small fist. He had picked up that boy nevertheless, had shifted David so that in the end he had both of them sitting on one of his thighs and leaning with their backs against his chest.

He however had been startled the moment when he had pulled Harry's thumb out of his mouth and noticed bite marks – the child having not simply sucked on his thumb but actually bitten on it. Together with the chewed nails on his fingers, he normally would say that it was a clear sign of self-harm. But at such an early age already? Maybe it was only stress and fear the child didn't know how to release in any other way? But he knew that it could _end_ in self-harm and therefore he knew that it was absolutely essential to work with the child on this habit, to get him other means to release his stress and fear.

Both boys had blushed with embarrassment the moment they had woken, but neither of them had been overly pleased the moment he had set them down, Harry even had been looking up at him pleadingly again.

He was just about to sort through the papers of what he'd had the children doing this week and of how far they had come so that he could plan for the next week, when he noticed David looking up, a small smile crossing his face, and he looked over to the door. It wasn't however Mrs. Arlington that stood there, picking up her son, but a man unknown to him and he immediately knew that this surely was the child's father.

"Would you please stay here for a moment, David, while I go with your father to the next room?" He calmly asked the boy, trying to keep an eye on both, the child and the man. David clearly looked over at the man unsurely for a moment while the boy's father looked worried for a moment. But neither of them protested and so he left his desk after David had given him a small nod.

"If you would follow me, please, Mr. Arlington." He coolly said, narrowing his eyes at the worried gaze the man threw towards the boy before turning and leaving the classroom. He led the man to the rest room where he had Harry sleeping in the mornings and opened the door, waiting until David's father had entered before he closed the door and then stepped to a small table that stood to their right, for the first time using this particular piece of furniture in this room as he up to now only ever had used the cot to their left for Harry to sleep on.

"Let me guess, David has been beaten again." The man simply stated, looking at him calmly, even if he clearly could see that he barely managed doing so and he lifted his eyebrow.

"Indeed." He drawled, his dark eyes never leaving the man's pale face. "Any explanation to that?"

"I know what you think, Mr. –"

"Snape." The Potions Master answered.

"Mr. Snape." The man said. "And I surely can't blame you, but you are wrong."

"Then tell me, Mr. Arlington, _who is_ beating David on the weekends – while he is staying with you?" Snape seethed. The audacity of that man, denying that he beat the boy when the evidence was clear. The boy bore beating marks after the weekends he had spent with his father after all, and he was as nervous and scared as was his mother, only getting calmer and less shy during the week he spent with his mother – until the next weekend.

"David isn't beaten during the weekend, Mr. Snape." Mr. Arlington said, heavily sitting down into one of the two chairs that stood at the table and Snape narrowed his eyes at the man. "It is Betty who's beating him. She promised she wouldn't do so anymore and she also promised that she would get professional help. I know that it is hard to get quick appointments when it comes to a therapist, but it's nearly a year now."

"Then why has David's mother been given custody of him?" Snape asked, scowling at the man darkly.

"Because I haven't brought this up when we divorced and it is usually the mother that gets custody if there isn't shared custody of the child. I _asked_ for shared custody but Betty wanted sole custody over our son and mostly this is granted then if the parents can't come to an agreement over this by themselves – especially if the father is not the biological father. Yes, I have adopted David when I have married his mother."

"Why, Mr. Arlington, would you _not_ bring up child abuse to get sole – or at least shared – custody over your son?" Snape growled darkly. "Is it not your duty to keep your son safe from being abused?"

"Of course it is." The man sighed and Snape could see that he really looked tired now – and at the end of his rope. "But I promised Betty. It isn't as easy as you may think if you have a family and then split up. I might not love Betty anymore and I might be angry at her, but I don't _hate_ her and I still try to help her. I think, she _can_ be helped, but not if I take David from her against her wish. How bad is it this time?"

Severus took a deep breath before regarding the man for a long time. It was strange, because he believed David's father. Where Mrs. Arlington had been unsure and nervous, Mr. Arlington was calm, but not coldly so, but rather worriedly. Where Mrs. Arlington seemed to be scared, he seemed to be simply tired and worn – and it was clear that he was worried over the boy. Maybe Mrs. Arlington had been worried because she had tried to hide something? She had tried to deny the abuse at first and then she had looked startled the moment he had mentioned her husband – before she quickly had agreed that it had been him. David's father however had not even asked him if the boy had been beaten – again – but it had been a statement. He seemed to search for a solution that would help all of them.

But most of all – a man who abused his son – and maybe his wife as well – would not sit down in front of a teacher that confronted him – and kept standing. Such a man as well would keep standing, trying to be intimidating to defend himself.

But had David's mother not thought that he, Snape, might meet David's father at one point or another?

"How is it that _you_ are picking up David from pre-school today while David's mother is doing so normally?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at Mr. Arlington.

"Betty had an accident." The man said, running his hand over his face. "It's nothing too bad, but she's in hospital nevertheless."

"What happened?" Snape asked, only barely keeping himself from sighing, knowing that this surely wouldn't help the situation at all, the boy's mother being in hospital, seeing that Mr. Arlington worried over her as much as over the child.

"She had an accident with her car this morning after she brought David here." Mr. Arlington sighed. "Near the grocery, someone got onto her side of the road and caused a frontal impact. The other driver apparently had been searching something on his back seat and had turned his gaze off the road."

"Do you already know how long she will be in hospital?" Snape asked, knowing that even if – _if_ – it was his mother who beat him, that David wouldn't take that news lightly.

"Not really." The boy's father said, shaking his head. "They've spoken about a week at the least however. I don't know. She has been pretty upset, because of David and I have told her that she shouldn't be worried about that right now, that I would pick him up, but she didn't want me picking him up from pre-school today and insisted that her friend could do so and bring David over, that she would make sure to be out of the hospital by Sunday evening, but I told her that it wouldn't be a problem. I'm not stupid, Mr. Snape, and I know that most likely she tried to keep me from you, and I even already knew that you probably would confront me. She has lost control of the situation completely, I think, and is trying to somehow keep the pieces together with lies. It just won't work, but she isn't ready to see this. I'm trying to help her as good as possible by not pressing her too much, but … well, I don't know."

"Maybe it is necessary to _make_ her see, Mr. Arlington." Snape finally said, finally sitting down onto the other chair. "You have tried to leave her alone for nearly a year now and it has not worked. Maybe it is time to take a different approach and take David to force her in finally taking professional help which she until now had not done."

"And what if she takes David then and leaves?" Mr. Arlington asked. "Until now I had him at least during the weekends, but if I do something like that, what if she leaves with him then? I have no legal rights to keep her from doing that."

"If you can proof that it is your wife who is beating David, and if it is clear that professional help in form of a therapy could help her, then you would get custody over Davit at least until she has started therapy – if not even until she has finished it successfully. After that a new solution might be found."

"And what if not?" Mr. Arlington asked, sounding scared suddenly. "What if I lose David forever then? I wouldn't be able to look after him at least during the weekends then. There wouldn't be anyone who would help him then, I can't …"

"Right now David's mother is in hospital and you should take the boy home." Snape cut the man off before he could work himself into a panic attack. "And right now you should keep him with you. You also should already contact your lawyer and clear the situation with him, tell him of my suggestions. I am sure that he will agree with me and that he will find a way. It is not only your former wife who needs help, Mr. Arlington, but your son as well – and your son is just that, an innocent child."

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It had not been easy to really get the man calm again, but he had managed without relying onto one of his potions and in the end he had agreed to immediately contact his lawyer. There had not been an unsure "I'll get this under control, I promise" but an "I will" and he knew that the man would do that.

David had been happy upon seeing his father and he had watched the interaction with the two closely.

He knew well that looks could deceit, that a child could seem happy and clingy in the presence of the abusive part of his parents just to please that part, out of fear, out of hope, whatever. But it had not looked like that. The boy had leaned against his father while the man had put on his shoes and he had closed his eyes. No child would close his eyes in the presence of his abusive father – and David had not done so with his mother.

Walking up the stairs to the headmistress' office his thoughts wandered over to his visit at the Dursleys tomorrow. One problem was solved, David. But the other one was not yet and they needed a solution soon, he knew, he could feel it.

"Come in." Came the answer to his knock and he opened the door woman's office, stepped in. Lifting his eyebrow he noticed Howell being present already, leaning with his back at the counter close to the window. Did that man not have any classes?

"Any news, Mr. Snape?" Miss Davenport asked, getting off her chair and turning towards the counter. She took a cup from the space beside her and a moment later she turned back to him with a cup of coffee she reached towards him. "You look tired."

"I do thank you, Miss Davenport." He said, gladly taking the cup of coffee and taking a sip of the black brewage.

"There's milk and sugar over there, Mr. Snape." Howell said, pointing to the counter, but he simply shook his head at the man.

"It isn't David's father who beats him." He simply started, getting to the point immediately like always. "I have had a conversation with him just a moment ago."

"Mr. Arlington was here?" The headmistress asked, her voice sounding incredulously. "He never before picked the boy up."

"Mrs. Arlington had an accident with her car." He answered. "And currently she is residing at the hospital – for at least a week as it seems. I have told Mr. Arlington to take David home and to contact his lawyer immediately."

"Are you sure that he told you the truth?" Howell asked.

"I am." Snape calmly answered. "I have watched both of them closely. While children often cling to the abusive part of his parents to please them, or out of fear, out of hope, they never would turn their backs on them or close their eyes in their presence. David has done both today. He had leaned with his back at his father's chest while Mr. Arlington has put on the boy's shoes and he has closed his eyes – while being comfortable and relaxed. Mr. Arlington himself seems to be at the end of his rope while he at the same time is trying to find a solution that would benefit all of them. He had asked Mrs. Arlington to seek out professional help what she has not done so far but still he was reluctant to blame her and take other steps, fearing that he would press her too much. He fears that she would take David then and leave with the boy."

"Maybe it is time that he does press her on this." The headmistress mused, sitting back down into her armchair.

"That is what I have told him as well." He inclined his head before he took another sip of the hot coffee, savoring the bitter taste of it. "I am sure she will not do so without being pressed. She has to realize that she could lose her son if she does not seek out professional help."

"Maybe you should ask Mr. Arlington for a written note to not hand David over to his mother for the time being." Howell suggested and for a moment he looked at the man thoughtfully before he slowly nodded.

"Yes, I think that would be best." He then said. "I will speak to him Monday morning as he brings David. At least he would not have to worry about David's mother taking the boy away without his knowledge." Taking another sip from his coffee he turned towards the window and looked over the grounds for a moment. "I will be at the Dursleys tomorrow afternoon as Mrs. Dursley had spoken out an invitation earlier in the week." He then added.

"Do you think this is wise?" Miss Davenport asked and he turned back towards her, leaning against the windowsill.

"I cannot answer you this question, Miss Davenport." He then answered. "On one hand – it could be that I see something that would give us enough proof of the abuse going on in the house and I could learn more of Mr. Potter's situation. I also could place a few – recording devices in one corner of their house or another. On the other hand – it could worsen Mr. Potter's situation."

"Not to mention what it would do to Harry." Miss Davenport said. "He trusts you, Mr. Snape."

"I know." He sighed. "I have spoken to him this morning about my visit at his home tomorrow, and he had not taken it lightly at first. I however have explained the situation to him, that I would try keeping the conversation away from him as best as possible and that I of course would keep the fact that I am on his side from his relatives. He has understood and he has agreed, even if he still is frightened over this visit tomorrow."

"You will have to be very careful, Mr. Snape." Howell said. "Dursley is not stupid and he is very cunning and slippery."

"I'm not afraid that I could say something idiotic, Mr. Howell." He said, narrowing his eyes at the other teacher. Howell seemed to be worth more than he had given him credit for in the beginning. "I have handled such situations before with other students of mine and there had been just as much at the risk. Not all wealthy parents that send their children to an academy like Hathaway are kind parents unnecessarily."

"You fear Harry could do something foolish." Howell stated and he gave a court nod.

"And nevertheless I cannot back out of this visit as I fear what the Dursleys might do to the child if they are dissappointed in my person by not accepting their invitation. But I would feel more at ease if there were a way to make sure the boy could contact me in case of danger after I left that house."

"I fear there won't be one." Miss Davenport sighed.

"I do not know." He mused. "I do live at Number seven, Privet Drive and it could be possible for the boy to reach me in case of danger. I am just not sure if he really would do so."

"Probably not." Howell murmured.

"No, probably not. I will think of something." The Potions Master sighed before placing the now empty cup at the sideboard. "Maybe there might be a way."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_A __visit at the Dursleys _…

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	13. number four and number seven

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

September, 8th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_"I would feel more at ease if there were a way to make sure the boy could contact me in case of danger after I left that house."_

_"I fear there won't be one." Miss Davenport sighed. _

_"I do not know." He mused. "I do live at Number seven, Privet Drive and it could be possible for the boy to reach me in case of danger. I am just not sure if he really would do so."_

_"Probably not." Howell murmured. _

_"I will think of something." The Potions Master sighed before placing the now empty cup at the sideboard. "Maybe there might be a way."_

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter ****thirteen**

**Number four and number seven**

Getting up this Saturday morning had been even harder than getting up on Monday or Tuesday morning. Wednesday, Thursday and yesterday be been better, he apparently had gotten used to his new job, but getting up today, with the knowledge of having to visit the Dursleys and what it most likely would do to the Potter boy – no, he did not look forwards to that.

Starting the coffee maker and taking the Daily Prophet he tried to distract himself – and failed miserably. He simply wasn't able to concentrate on anything else than the visit he would have to do in just a few hours and so he threw the newspaper back at the table and stood to get a cup from the board above the sink.

He knew what he would talk with the Dursleys about of course and he knew what he had to avoid. He also knew what he would say if Dursley senior would mention his encounter with his son on Tuesday and he knew how he would react if the subject came to Potter at all. But he feared the reaction the boy would show and he feared that maybe the situation could go out of hands – but mostly he feared that he would make a small mistake and the boy would have to pay for it later.

Getting his coffee from the maker and filling his cup he went over to the floo and threw a handful of the grayish powder into the flames, calling out for the headmaster's office and a moment later he looked from the flames into the circular office of the older wizard. If he were to place any recording devices in the Dursleys' household, then he would have to inform Dumbledore anyway – not to mention that he had to report to the man at one point or another to begin with and he had not done so for over a week now. Maybe Dumbledore even had any ideas as well or maybe the headmaster could send help in form of someone from wizarding child welfare, he didn't know, but it was worth a try, at least it was better than nothing.

"Severus, my boy!" The blasted old man called out the moment his blue eyes fell onto his face sitting in the flames, smiling at him and he nearly groaned with frustration. Wasn't it enough that the blasted toddlers smiled at him as if he were a teddy bear? Wasn't it enough that he had lost his dignity and respect in front of them? Did the headmaster have to do the same now?

"If you like a cup of coffee instead of that blasted tea you are drinking right now, then I suggest that you come over, headmaster." He growled darkly. "The password is venenum consanesco." Pulling his head off the fireplace he took a deep breath and got a second cup from the board, filled it with the hot brewage just the moment when his fire flared and Dumbledore stepped into his kitchen.

"Good morning, headmaster." He growled, placing the cup at the table.

"What a nice surprise, my dear boy." Dumbledore smiled at him happily and he nearly cringed at the word 'nice'. "It's been a long time since I last had a god cup of coffee."

"However you manage this." He growled, not sure how the old wizard could get fully awake in the mornings without a cup of coffee, let alone live in the first place. A cup of coffee in the mornings and on e in the afternoon was a standard he had gotten used to during the past years since he had become a spy for the old man.

"Oh, I do manage quite fine, dear Severus." Albus chuckled at him before his eyes wandered to the icebox. "Oh, what a nice picture, my dear boy. Did one of your children draw this for you?"

Following the old meddling coot's gaze he nearly groaned. How could he have forgotten to remove the picture Potter had drawn him just two days ago before calling over the headmaster! Of course the blasted old wizard would notice it and now his reputation was not only destroyed here at the pre-school but at Hogwarts as well.

"Indeed." He drawled, piercing the headmaster with an extra cold stare just to get at least parts of his dignity back in front of the man. "And as I do not lie to my students – even if they are toddlers – I have taped it over there."

"But how very nice of you, my dear boy." The blasted headmaster smiled at him, absolutely ignoring the cold gaze he threw at him.

"I haven't called you over to marvel at my students' paintings however, headmaster." He then drawled. "I rather wanted to report to you and to inquire your opinion."

Not that he really would heed the headmaster's opinion of Dumbledore would suggest against his plans – but the old coot didn't have to know this, did he? He would place one or another recording device at the Dursleys' house and he would go on with his general plans about Potter – namely providing him with food and potions, seeing that he had enough rest and trying to find either enough proof of the abuse or help the blasted brat in any other ways possible.

"Yes, yes, my boy." Dumbledore smiled at him and he wondered – and not for the first time – if the older wizard could do anything else than smiling. Of course he knew that Albus _could_, he had seen the older wizard during the war after all and so he knew that Albus was a very powerful wizard – but except of that, he only ever had seen the man smiling an infuriating smile. "So, what is it anyway, Severus? That picture? It looks like you sitting at a table that is made for a house elf."

Not even looking at the picture the headmaster was about to question he still stared at the man unimpressed.

"Potter is abused at the Dursleys." He then said, ignoring Albus' question and trying to keep his face and his voice as indifferent as possible, watching the older wizard's face falling and his smile vanishing, the headmaster – for once – becoming serious.

"I feared as much." He then sighed. "What was the reason as to why I wanted you here at Little Whinging and not any other teacher. How serious is it?"

"Live threatening if nothing is done." He simply answered. "The boy is beaten by them at a regular basis and to a point where not only colorful bruises are seen but open welts as well. He is starved and he clearly does not get enough rest to recover anything."

"Knowing you, you have already taken steps to help the boy?" Dumbledore asked and he lifted his eyebrow.

"Of course I have." He growled. "But it isn't enough anyway. The classroom at St. Catherine is reacting to the boy's hesitant magic and hesitant it is already, as if Potter feared he would do something forbidden by acknowledging his magic. If a solution is not found soon, I fear that he will abandon his magic completely and become a squib."

"That bad?" Dumbledore had the nerve to ask and he huffed at the headmaster.

"Indeed." He scowled at the man.

"What do you have in your mind, Severus?"

"Seeing as I am invited for tea at the Dursleys this afternoon, I am planning on placing some recording devices in their house so we finally may have some proof as Vernon Dursley, that fat whale of a man, has not only the school board and the authorities here at Little Whinging creeping as deep into his ass as humanly possible but a corrupt police chief as well."

"How can that man have such an amount of influence over the entire town?" Albus asked incredulously and again the Potions Master huffed at him, shaking his head in utter shock over the man's dumbness.

"How can Lucius Malfoy have such an amount of influence over the entire Britain Ministry of Magic?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow at the old wizard and Albus sighed.

"I see your point, Severus." He then admitted. "I didn't know that Vernon Dursley is such a rich man." He then said.

"Neither did I." Severus shook his head before he took a sip of his coffee. "Fact is – he seems to be and so we cannot do anything to get Potter out of there without either enough proof of the abuse we can bring to an outward force what is one of the teachers at St. Catherine searching at the moment or help from wizarding child service."

"I do not know if wizarding child services will step in, but seeing that they are providing a monthly sum to the Dursleys – I think they could be interested in the abuse."

"I beg your pardon, Albus?" Snape asked, not believing his ears – the Dursleys actually got money from wizarding child welfare for the boy and didn't even provide him with breakfast and lunch? Not to mention other things a child needed? Not to mention they got money for the boy and abused him for that?

"I said that …"

"I did hear your words, Albus!" He hissed in pure rage. "What sum do we speak of, Albus?"

"I do not know, but I heard it is a lot of money."

"Never mind what, Albus, but you owe me a favor and now I am asking one of you." He growled darkly, not even minding that he used the favor the blasted old coot owed him for Potter. "I do not care how you do it – as long as you bring in wizarding child services to get the boy out of that house as soon as possible."

"But were would the boy go then, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, again smiling at him. "The Dursleys are his only living relatives, my boy, Harry has nowhere else to go."

"If there is no other way, then I will take the boy if I have to, but I want him out of that house, Albus!"

"I will see what I can do, Severus." The old man replied, back to smiling before he got off his chair and went over to the fireplace. "I will inform you as soon as I have any news about wizarding child welfare."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Good afternoon, Mr. Snape." Petunia Dursley smiled her sweat smile when opening the front door to number four, but after having read her note – he knew what to look for and he could make out a short flicker of unease, of unsureness and of nervousness crossing her face, her pale eyes darting back into the house for a split second and he knew – she was looking for her husband.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Dursley." He dutifully answered. "I do thank you again for the invitation."

"Oh, but it's been no trouble at all!" The woman smiled at him. "Do come in, Mr. Snape. This way, please. That is my husband, Vernon." She then said, waving her hand at the fat man he had already seen moving between the house and the car a few times since he had moved in number seven. If they had a mailbox in their garden wall, then – and he was sure about that – Dursley would even take the car to get the mail from the mailbox in the mornings.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Dursley." He greeted the man who heaved himself up from the sofa, taking the fat hand the man offered without showing the disgust he felt at alone the thought of touching that monster.

"Vernon, Mr. Snape." The man twisted his face in what he surely thought might be a smile. "The name's Vernon."

"Severus will do in this case." He said, knowing that – as much as he disliked it – he had to play along. It was one afternoon, one single afternoon and he would survive this afternoon, but he would do nothing that would anger Dursley and therefore endanger Potter. He would survive this man calling him by his given name for one afternoon.

Petunia Dursley – luckily – chose this moment to bring in the already promised apple pie and tea and they took their seats around the coffee table in the large living room. It was a well equipped room, Severus immediately noticed, the furniture surely having been expensive as well as the television and the stereo – aside from other equipment he didn't know what it was even.

"Where is Dudley?" He asked, frowning at the absence of the boy. Not that he minded, surely not, he even was glad that the boy was not present actually, had already feared what that idiotic child could give away of their last encounter, but he wondered – and tried to keep the conversation rather at _that_ boy than at Potter – who was absent as well and he couldn't help feeling worried.

Where was Potter? Was he in his room? Was he alright? Had he been already in trouble with Dursley? Did he already have something to eat today?

"Oh, our Duddykins is over at the Polkisses." Petunia said, heaving a piece of the pie onto the plate and getting him out of his worries. "It's Piers' birthday and he surely won't be back before dinnertime. But next time you're over for tea he surely will be here, Mr. Snape."

"I am glad to hear that, Mrs. Dursley." He answered. "But it is important that children at that age have time with their friends as well as with family."

"The true kindergarten teacher, Severus, aren't you?" Dursley asked and Severus would have liked to huff at the man – instead he smiled.

"Of course, Vernon." He answered. "Or I wouldn't do that job. I have taught children of several ages so far after all."

"Ah, a man of experience." Dursley chuckled. "But as a kindergarten teacher? I've never heard of a male being a kindergarten teacher, Severus."

"In times of the emancipation I do not think that so strange, Vernon." He said. "If women can take over the jobs from men – why should we not do the same? I like working with children after all and the younger they are the more you can teach them. The teenagers do not mind learning anymore, they only have parties and their love-live in their minds."

"Ah, true words." Dursley said while starting with his pie – and having it devoured a few moments ago, reaching his plate to his wife so that she could provide him with a second piece. "What class do you teach?"

"I have overtaken Miss Adams' raccoons for the year." He answered, hoping that Dursley didn't add one and one together and start a conversation about Potter.

"She's at parental leave, isn't she, Mr. Snape?" Petunia Dursley asked nervously and he inclined his head at her.

"Yes, she is, Mrs. Dursley." He answered. "She will be back by the beginning of next year."

"What will you do then, Severus?" Dursley asked, eyeing him suspiciously, surely thinking that he would be without work then and probably already seeing him as a lazy subject – what he didn't mind in the least, he had to admit.

"I will go back to Hathaway Academy where I have been teaching until Miss Davenport has asked the headmaster of our school for help as she was in dire need of a teacher." He answered. "And as it was a welcomed opportunity to have a change for a chance – I accepted the offer."

"Oh, my Duddykins will be so sad when you leave next year." Petunia nearly sobbed and the Potions Master wasn't sure if it was show only or if the idiot woman really was so cuddling of her son. _'Sure he will!'_ He thought sarcastically. Since their encounter on Tuesday the idiot boy had made sure to stay as far away from him as possible, watching him suspiciously. "He so easily gets used to his teachers and then he always is so sad if they leave."

_'As if he'd had so many different teachers already who left St. Catherine.'_ He thought. As far as he knew, the boy had had Miss Weldon from day one until now and Miss Adams has been the only teacher since Dursley junior attended who has left as well.

"Nonsense, Petunia, dear." Dursley shook his head. "Our Dudders will get used to it and it'll only be for the benefit of his later life then. He will overtake my post at Grunnings one day after all and there too are people coming and going! Imagine, our Dudders sobbing whenever one of the workers will have to leave! What have you been teaching at Hathaway, Severus? That name sounds like a respectable academy to me."

"It is, Vernon." He answered, unable to keep some pride out of his voice and the blasted man actually grinned at him! "I have been teaching chemistry there."

"Ah, a chemist." Dursley said. "I'm sure it isn't the most favorite subject of your students there."

"Actually no." He answered with a sigh. "At least not if you consider the imbeciles drooling in my class."

"Drooling imbeciles! You're fun, Severus." The idiot man laughed out loud. "Finally we have a neighbor who has a sense of humor. Rowans, who's been living at number seven before you, has been a big headed asshole who always complained about the boy mowing the lawn or washing the car in the driveway."

Of course he immediately knew who 'the boy' was meant with and he nearly growled at Dursley senior. That child was five, for Merlin's sake, and surely not tall enough to handle a lawnmower or washing a car! Of course Rowans had complained about the Dursleys having their nephew working like a slave.

"Rowans left for France a few weeks ago." Petunia said and Snape could see that she desperately tried to get the subject away from Potter. "A horrible country, and that _language_!"

"Ah, I don't care!" Dursley huffed. "It's none of his business if I have the boy working a bit! And most of his chores are inside anyway! Dunno what was wrong with Rowans."

"So, Potter is able to do some chores." Snape said, narrowing his eyes. Maybe that was his solution.

"'Course he is!" Dursley boomed. "He won't die of a few chores after all, the lazy freak."

"Well, I could use someone who cleans the floors and dusts the shelves on the weekends." He said, hoping that Dursley would take the hint.

"Hmm." The man eloquently made. "I could borrow him to you. How long would you need him?"

"Let me say three hours on Saturdays and Sundays each." He answered, hoping that it wouldn't be too long for that monster who even gave his nephew to his neighbors as a slave. "I have enough work to do as I do not manage too much during the week. I would pay him of course." He added to bait the man a bit.

"Course." Dursley said, smirking at him with satisfaction. "Just give me twenty pounds per week and we have a deal. Would you like taking him with you when you leave after tea already?"

"If he is available." He answered, trying to sound calm while he inwardly seethed with fury.

"Course he is!" Dursley beamed. "He'd lazily lay in his cupboard anyway. Can just as good work for a chance! And if he's lazing around at your house – just give him a cuff to his ears!"

"Do not worry, Vernon, I am able to handle him." He said.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Taking the boy in a grip that might look harsh for any onlookers but in reality was a gentle grip he led Potter out of number four and over to number seven, to his own house.

He nearly had been seething when Dursley had called the boy – with a _'freak'_ – and Potter finally had come – out of a _cupboard_! Of course he had already known that the boy's room here at his relatives' home surely was not what any child would call a nursery, seeing that the classroom at St. Catherine reacted to the child's magic – as hesitant as it was – but he never would have thought that the boy's – 'room' – actually was a _cupboard_! It was no wonder that the classroom reacted to the child's magic, that the classroom _was_ the boy's nursery in some ways.

He'd been to the toilet at one point or another during the afternoon and he had placed some recording bugs in there, behind the mirror, as well as in a corner in the hallway, and above the cupboard in the kitchen he had passed on his way back to the living room, telling that he had lost his way when Dursley had asked why he came from the kitchen. Shortly after Dursley had left the living room for the same reason and he quickly had waved his hand when Petunia Dursley had not looked, had placed one of the same bugs in the corner above the television.

They all had blended in with the wall immediately and upon his leave he knew they had activated. The Dursleys would not see them, neither Vernon Dursley nor Petunia Dursley whom he didn't trust fully yet. They would record anything going on in the house and they would do so both ways – the muggle and the wizarding way.

Yes – finally it worked to his favor, that he was a spy, and he smirked. His smirk however vanished the moment he remembered Dursley's words when he had told Potter of his new duty.

**Flashback **

_"You'll go over to Mr. Snape on Saturdays and Sundays, __boy!" Dursley bellowed the moment Potter had left his – cupboard, of all things – and stood now in the entrance of the living room, flinching at the word 'boy'. "And you'll clean his house! You'll do whatever he'll tell you, understood, boy?" _

_The boy threw a scared and unsure look over at him, Snape, a look that clearly screamed the word 'betrayal' and he had to grit his teeth here and now to keep himself from giving himself away. Quickly the boy however looked back to his uncle and just as quickly he nodded at the blasted man. _

_"Good." Dursley growled. "Because if I hear that you've been lazing around, you good for nothing burden, then you'll be very sorry, understood that you idiot boy?"_

_Oh – how much he would like to interfere and hex that good for nothing and idiot man with the worst curses he knew – and he knew quite a lot – but he knew that it would be the worst thing possible. Right now he had the boy out of there not only during the week but on the weekend as well, and three hours each day during which the boy easily could eat something and then take a nap before he would have to go back to his daily hell. He couldn't risk that with a stupid comment just because he didn't have himself under control. _

**End flashback**

Opening the door to his house he led the boy inside and the moment he had the door closed he moved to kneel in front of the child, moving his hand from his arm to place it on the thin shoulder while his dark eyes searched the green ones that looked at him unsurely and anxiously, as if he expected him to start with an order where to begin his cleaning.

"What they told you were lies." He quietly and calmly said. "Neither are you a good for nothing lazy burden, nor are you here for cleaning. I only made this arrangement so that I could get you out of that house for a few hours during the weekend as well."

For a moment there was something akin to hope in the boy's green eyes, but it vanished a moment later into resignation, as if he wouldn't believe his words. The boy nevertheless nodded, lightly and dutifully, and Snape knew that Harry did not believe him – but for now the boy was complying and he would try and help him as good as possible while the year progressed, hoping that he would be able to get the boy out of there for good soon. And yet, he knew that it wouldn't be easy.

Dursley indeed seemed to be a very rich man and he was a sly bastard, that much he had learned over their afternoon tea, and he knew that Miss Davenport and Mr. Howell had been right – if there was someone who had not only enough influence but the means to corrupt even the local police, then it was Dursley. The man practically had radiated an arrogant sureness that had been sickening and he knew – Dursley said what had to be done and people around him did it without uttering a question.

"Come now, Harry." He said, getting to his feet and leading the boy to his kitchen. "I am sure you have not eaten anything today. We will have an early dinner and then I want you to take a small nap on the sofa in the living room."

Seating the boy at the table he went to the oven to heat the soup he'd been planning for this evening. He gladly would give the boy from the steak and fried potatoes he'd have after the soup too, but he knew that most likely the boy wouldn't be able to stomach it, that he only would get cramps from the too heavy food. So soup and toast it would be for now.

He would eat his own dinner later after the child had left – if he by then would be able to stomach anything, that was.

"This will be a standard routine, Harry." He said while starting the oven and pulling the pot with the soup to the hot plate. "You'll come over at Saturdays and Sundays at three in the afternoon and you'll stay here for three hours during which you can eat and rest. You just will have to be careful of what you tell your uncle so that he won't get suspicious." He added, turning to the boy – to see that he hadn't even listened to him, his eyes glued to the fridge where he had taped the picture Harry had drawn him two days ago.

Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly he went over to the table.

"I have told you I would tape it at the refrigerator." He calmly said, knowing why the boy was so startled. He had been to the Dursleys' kitchen, and there he had seen a lot of pictures he knew were not from Harry. He knew Harry's style of drawing by now after all and he knew that those pictures the boy surely had not created. They were neither the colors Potter would chose nor were they the subjects he would chose to begin with. And so there was just one boy left who could have drawn them – Dudley Dursley. No other pictures had been taped to the Dursleys' fridge and no pictures generally of Harry had been in their household either.

The boy only nodded and Snape brought over two soup plates and spoons.

"I know that your relatives never taped a creation of yours at their fridge, but I have promised you I would and I do keep my promises." He said, looking down at the nearly crying boy. "From three to six on Saturdays and Sundays, you will be here and it will be free time for you to eat and rest. But you will have to be careful of what you tell your uncle, Harry."

"Know." The boy quietly answered. "But Hawwy never speak to un'le V'non."

"That might be the best solution anyway." He sighed. "If your uncle however asks – then just tell him that you had to clean the floors and the kitchen. Never tell him that you got something to eat here and never tell him that I let you sleep here either."

The boy quickly shook his head and Snape got back to the oven and got the soup over to the table. He got the toast and then went back to the table sitting down.

"Let's eat something." He simply said, handing the boy from the soup and a toast. "And then you may sleep."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_A __visit at the Dursleys _…

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	14. Awwy be good

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

September, 29th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year at pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever – of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_"That might be the best solution anyway." He sighed. "If your uncle however asks – then just tell him that you had to clean the floors and the kitchen. Never tell him that you got something to eat here and never tell him that I let you sleep here either."_

_The boy quickly shook his head and Snape got back to the oven and got the soup over to the table. He got the toast and then went back to the table sitting down._

_"Let's eat something." He simply said, handing the boy from the soup and a toast. "And then you may sleep."_

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter ****fourteen**

**Awwy be good  
**

He was confused. He was utterly and absolutely and totally confused!

He had been sitting in his cupboard yesterday afternoon and he had heard each word that had been spoken in the living room, and he had been so disappointed and sad and startled and … and scared and … and betrayed and … and anything else when Mr. Snape had said that he could need someone who would be doing some cleaning at his house.

Of course he had reminded himself of what Mr. Snape had told him the day before, that he only would play an act and that he would not mean what he said – but asking for him to do the cleaning at his house surely couldn't be an act, could it? And he had been desperate, knowing that he barely managed the work aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon set him. So, how should he manage doing additional work at Mr. Snape's house?

And Mr. Snape had looked at him so angry when uncle Vernon had called him out of his cupboard! But he wasn't sure if he really had been angry, or rather, if he really had been angry at _him_. Because when he had taken his arm and had taken him to his house, the grip Mr. Snape had had on his arm had not been harsh and painful like he had thought it would but it had been gentle. And then Mr. Snape had told him that he didn't have to work at his house at all and that he was to rest and eat! And he even had seen the picture he had drawn for Mr. Snape earlier in the week and that the teacher had taped it to his fridge! The Dursleys surely never had done so, never _would_ have done so, ever! So – yes … he was absolutely confused.

Walking over to Mr. Snape's house he wondered what this afternoon would be like and he slowed his steps as much as he could dare without aunt Petunia noticing, but he simply couldn't help, he was nervous and he was scared.

He didn't think that Mr. Snape would do something bad, he didn't think that he would beat him like uncle Vernon did, because Mr. Snape never had done so since he was his teacher, and he – somehow – didn't even think that he would have him really working, but he wasn't sure about _that_. It wasn't that he shied the work, he was used to work, but he knew that if he had to work at Mr. Snape's house, then he would be too tired to do the chores aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon set him at home.

And that meant that he would be punished by uncle Vernon. And he even could understand. Aunt Petunia had already so much to do because of him, really. She had to care for him and she had to give him clothes and she had to send him to school and stuff. It surely wasn't fair that she had to do his work too because he was too tired. It wasn't their fault that his parents had died in that car crash and that they now had to take him.

Reaching Mr. Snape's house he hesitated for a moment before he used the door bell.

Mr. Snape had said he should not knock but use the door bell so that he would hear him, and so he did after a moment of hesitancy – used the door bell.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Standing near the window and gazing out, he watched Harry leaving number four and walking along the garden path. He could see Petunia Dursley closing the door to number four and a moment later Harry had reached the street. Again, just like a few mornings ago, the boy looked to his right and then to his left before looking right again, left again, and finally looking along the street to his right once more before he finally crossed the street. But where he back then had been running across the street as quickly as his little feet had been able carrying him, he this time walked slowly, his steps even becoming slower the moment he reached the other side of the street and then turned right and slowly walked along the pavement, his feet nearly dragging.

The boy clearly, visibly, was nervous and scared, most likely dreading his arrival here at number seven and most likely fearing what might await him here at his house, and he sighed.

Of course the boy would be scared. He had learned nothing else than working, being screamed at, being hungry, being locked away and being beaten – so, how should he know that there were other things than that too? The child never had learned anything else, he never had learned what real food tasted like, what a friendly touch felt like, what kind words felt like. The Dursleys didn't know what they were not only doing to this child but they didn't know what they were robbing off this child either – or they knew and didn't care, he thought grimly.

He waited a moment until he heard the door bell before he left the kitchen and went over to the door. He had told the boy that he should use the door bell instead of knocking as he was sure that he wouldn't hear the boy's soft knock and it would be a bit strange if any alarm he had set and that would announce Harry's presence went off upon the boy's knock. He had to keep using magic at an absolute minimum as long as he was here – unfortunately.

And what wouldn't be too long, he hoped.

Opening the door and looking down at the little imp he waved him in wordlessly, just in case that Petunia or Vernon Dursley were looking out of their own window. He didn't really fear about Petunia noticing anything anymore, his visit at their house yesterday had showed him that the woman indeed was nervous and scared in her husband's presence, but he had been a spy for too long and he had been fighting within the Dark Lord's own ranks so that he had seen the impossible. He would not risk anything, not if Potter's health was at risk, after all.

He led the boy to the kitchen and even before he made him sitting down at the table he took a good look at the little urchin, pulling the collar of the boy's T-shirt down a bit and he immediately found a new bruise that hadn't been there the day before. Well, of course there was a new bruise, there always was one new bruise or another and the thing was – he couldn't even do anything about it, knowing that Dursley only would be suspicious if his nephew came home with fewer bruises than he'd had before leaving his house. It was a fact that made him feeling helpless and feeling helpless was a fact that only made him more angry at that blasted man. He didn't like feeling helpless.

He didn't comment on the bruise however, knowing that it wouldn't help the situation at all but only would upset the boy and that was the last thing he wanted. The boy was here to rest and to – for once in his life – relax a bit. What he surely wouldn't be able doing if he were upset. So he ignored the new bruise and only ran a short diagnostic the moment Harry didn't look at him to make sure that no damage had been inflicted that needed immediate treatment. The parchment that lay on the counter showed that – no, except of a few new bruises no other damage had been inflicted – as if this weren't already enough damage!

"Sit down, Harry." He said, pointing at the kitchen table. "And take this syrup, it is the same you are taking during school days."

The brat did as he was told and sat down, took the potion and again he didn't complain about it, just screwed up his face while the entire small body shook for a moment.

"Good." He said, sitting down at the table himself and pointing at the toast. "I have prepared toasted bread and scrambled eggs, both of which your stomach surely will be able handling, eat." He simply said without making a big deal out of it that only would startle the little imp. He would have to talk with the boy more about his life at number four, about not getting enough food and about being beaten, but he knew that now was not the right time for that.

Right now the boy had to eat and right now the boy had to try and rest a bit. Not to mention that Potter, with his barely five years, simply was too young to understand anything he tried to explain to him while he was in the midst of the situation. He simply would have to deal with the situation, keep the damage at minimal as possible and anything else had to wait until he ha the child out of there.

Again he watched the boy eating slowly, savoring each bite he took.

He couldn't understand how people could deny a child such moments, and he didn't only blame Vernon Dursley but Petunia Dursley as well. The woman might be scared of her husband, he didn't deny that and he knew what the woman went through, but in his opinion it not only was her duty to keep her children – never mind if they were her own or not as long as they lived in her household – safe, but she also could have found ways to help the boy secretly.

Maybe she did, sometimes, or the boy wouldn't even be alive otherwise, maybe, he didn't know – but in his eyes it wasn't enough. Potter was dangerously thin and only someone who got _much_ too little food would be so dangerously thin. If the boy got something to eat every other day, then it surely wasn't much he got. Petunia should long ago have found a way to secretly provide the boy with something to eat at least once a day if it wasn't possible for her doing so three times a day, for Merlin's sake, but not even this did she do.

Not to mention anything else that was going on in that household!

Well, he would have a word with the woman soon.

Of course he hadn't been stupid enough to ask Petunia for an appointment openly, but he had told the Dursleys that he was planning a tea party with all the parents and the children from his class and he had asked Petunia if she wouldn't mind helping him in planning the afternoon.

Dursley of course had beamed at his suggestion.

_"'Course it isn't too much, Severus!"_ The blasted man had answered, smiling broadly. _"My dear Petunia is quite the person for that. She's been planning a lot of tea parties for my company, she'll have a lot of fun with it, won't you, Petunia dear?"_

Petunia luckily had agreed happily, already starting to make suggestions, most likely believing that this would be a much safer subject than discussing her nephew in front of her husband.

He really didn't know what to do with Petunia yet. On one hand he didn't really care about her, seeing what that woman put her nephew through without helping him while on the other hand – well, Petunia was Lily's sister and surely Lily would want him helping her sister, never mind what. But would Lily not be upset at how Harry was handled in their – _'care'_?

"What this?" The boy's quiet voice got him out of his thoughts and he looked over at the little imp who was holding the glass with pumpkin juice in his small hands, eyeing the juice suspiciously but with a happy gleam in his green eyes and again – he was reminded at Lily. The brat had definitely not only inherited his mother's green eyes but he also had inherited his mother's kind heart and curiosity, even if he never showed it.

But there were some looks he gave him or the things – or people – surrounding him, which clearly were curious, he just never dared asking any of the questions he had but tried to figure out the answers by himself.

"It is pumpkin juice." He answered. "While it is not a common drink in Britain generally, the students from the school I have been teaching before I came to St. Catherine always liked it."

Again there was that look, the questioning look, the little brat regarded him with for a moment before averting his eyes, but again – he didn't dare asking.

"It is a special school for special children." He answered, not daring to use the word magic or magical in front of the boy, and surely he would not tell him that he himself would attend this particular school one day, would maybe even live there _before_ he was eleven. Well, it could be possible after all. If he took Potter with him to Hogwarts then the boy could attend primary school at Hogsmeade in a year, maybe, in two at the latest, and until then he simply would have to …

Merlin!

Had he really started planning about the boy living with him in near future?

He must be ill or sleep deprived or something like that. It simply was impossible for him to take the little urchin in. First, he didn't have the time to care for a five year old twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week, second he surely wouldn't get guardianship over the brat to begin with, seeing that he had been a Death Eater once and third – he simply but definitely was not the kind of person who could be a father to _anyone_.

Again Potter simply nodded at the answer to his unspoken question, accepting it without asking anything else.

Well, he was Draco's godfather, yes, but that didn't mean anything. Draco was the son of a Death Eater and he was used to a life that surely wasn't easy and Draco had been brought up very well so far. Not to mention that he didn't have Draco for twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week. He had Draco over one weekend or another during the holidays and he had the boy for a few hours or a sleep over when his parents chose to have a night for themselves, that was all and surely couldn't be considered.

"On Monday we will start with the speaking lessons." He said. "It will be nothing to be afraid of. I simply will have you repeating a few words and sentences I give you, nothing else. We will see where we will go from there then."

And the strange thing was – he actually did mean it. They would see where they would go from there then, if the boy would be placed with a foster family or if he would be placed with him, Snape. They simply would see.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Severus?" Came Albus' voice after the floo had flared and he was glad that Harry was currently laying on the sofa in his living room. Blasted old coot! What a mess if he had flooed over while the boy was still present! Couldn't he just have sent a message to appear? But then – it would have just as much a mess if there had been a note appearing at the kitchen table in front of the brat – and out of nowhere. Or if Albus' patronus would have appeared in the boy's presence and had started announcing the headmaster's arrival.

"Good afternoon, headmaster." He said the moment Albus stepped from the floo and into his kitchen and for a moment he frowned at the older wizard actually coming through without asking for permission first. He normally didn't do so.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Severus." The old wizard smiled. "We are colleagues since five years now and still you do not call me by my given name. It is Albus, just in case you have forgotten, my dear boy."

"Well, Albus." The Potions Master sighed. "I nevertheless suggest you change into a more muggle outfit as I currently have Mr. Potter resting on the sofa in my parlor. And surely it will not do any good if he saw you in a wizarding outfit as he never learned about his true heritage."

A wave of Albus' wand later the older wizard stood there in blue Jeans, a pink shirt and a yellow jacket and again the Potions Master sighed, the words 'crazy old man' coming to his mind.

"A bit less colorful would benefit the situation, Albus." He said. "Mr. Potter surely would be startled upon seeing –"

"A crazy old man?" The headmaster suggested, chuckling, when he didn't find an appropriate term that would describe the old wizard without being rude.

"Exactly." He quietly answered. "And if he started laughing at the memory of – this crazy old man that had visited his teacher – while being in his relative's presence, it surely would not help his situation at all."

"I see." Albus said, his own smile gone at his words and with another wave of his wand his clothes were more fitting, the pink shirt being white now and the jacket being black now. "What is the boy doing here anyway, Severus?" He then asked.

"As I have been visiting his relatives yesterday – as I told you – I have managed coaxing Dursley into sending Mr. Potter over for three hours on Saturdays and Sundays." He explained while pouring a cup of tea that he reached towards the headmaster. "Of course Dursley believes that I have the boy working here, but in truth I make sure that he has a meal during the weekends as well as during school days and that he can rest for an hour before he has to go back to them."

"A dangerous plan, my dear boy." Albus said. "If little Harry accidentally lets something slip, the situation will be worse."

"Do you have a better plan?" Snape asked with a huff while he took his seat at the table that would allow him to watch the door, and Albus immediately shook his head.

"Regrettably, no." He answered. "But I have news which nevertheless are good."

"Well?" He asked when the blasted old man didn't go on with his news, was just sitting there, watching him with his blasted smile on his face and his eyes glinting happily.

"Ah, well. Yes." He then said, after taking a sip of the tea. "I have been to the ministry and I have visited the department of child welfare."

"Albus!" He growled, impatiently when – yet again – the blasted man didn't go on.

"My dear Severus." The headmaster now openly chuckled. "Patience has never been your strong point, has it now? Well, seeing that they won't be able trampling into the Dursleys' house like a horde of hippogriffs, they will send someone over to your school first, on Tuesday morning, and after that they will try to have someone visiting the Dursleys under a disguise. Don't ask me, Severus, I don't know what Elsa has been planning, but I am sure that she will come up with something. She said, the problem will be that as the Dursleys have guardianship over little Harry and as they are not only muggles but are living in a muggle environment, they will have to work together with the muggle authorities – what won't be possible in this case as they are corrupted by Dursley himself."

"Knowing Miss Harvest I am sure that she will come up with something appropriate that will work and I am glad that it is _her_ overtaking this particular case." Severus said, taking a deep breath of relief. So wizarding child welfare was informed and it was Elsa Harvest who would take matters into her hand.

He had been working together with her concerning some of his Slytherins and therefore he knew that this woman not only would do something to begin with but that she would be careful and cunning. One day he would have to ask her in what house she'd been, he somehow was sure that her answer would be Slytherin.

"How are the Slytherins doing, Albus?" He then asked, his dark eyes fixing the old wizard.

"Taking into consideration that they have a new head of house and that many of them seem to miss you, I guess that they are doing very well." Albus answered. "They know that you will come back and – even if I never will understand it – they are afraid of disappointing you. You have your own house raised very well, my dear boy."

"Of course they fear disappointing me!" He growled. "I am the only teacher who looks out for them and I am the only teacher who respects them and handles them fair. Has someone seen to them being checked by Poppy upon their arrival at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, my boy." Albus answered seriously. "Poppy herself has called them over to her infirmary after the welcoming feast and I have to admit, I have learned quite a thing. Horace had started quite a fit when Poppy came through the floo into the Slytherin common room and took one student after another with her, and he immediately came to me, complaining about Poppy abducing his students. I've been startled at her explanation when I visited the infirmary. Why have you never told me, Severus?"

"Because you never cared, Albus." The Potions Master growled darkly. "You never cared with me and you never cared with a few others I know."

"Merlin, Severus!" Albus groaned into his hands for a moment. "Of course I cared! Maybe I haven't shown you how much I cared but I did. And if child services would have worked the way they do nowadays, then I would have tried getting you away from your father. But back then however, they didn't work as they do now. Nothing would have changed except your father being angry for getting into trouble with wizarding child welfare and I guess you do know how _that_ would have ended. I had the same situation you right now have with Harry except that – even if carefully – today we can do something."

"I have to apologize, headmaster." Snape sighed, calming down and suddenly feeling tired. He shouldn't have brought it up in the first place, he never brought it up and he never – well, at least there was a plan starting concerning Potter now.

Well – speaking of the devil he narrowed his eyes when he heard the boy in the other room, a soft sob that barely was audible, and with a warning look and a shaking of his head he left the kitchen, hoping that the blasted old man would heed his warning and _not_ follow him to the parlor where he already had an upset boy laying on the sofa.

"What is the problem, child?" He asked the moment he entered his parlor, worriedly going over to the crying boy who lay on the sofa, curled into a small ball.

The only answer however he got, was the boy quickly shaking his head, indicating that there was no problem at all, but he knew that this wasn't true and he was sure that the boy was upset over something he had heard them talking about. The problem was – what particular part of the conversation was it the boy had reacted so badly to? It could have been anything from Albus' presence to begin with over the fact that they had contacted child welfare up to the mentioning of a 'crazy, old man' or 'wizarding'. How much of their conversation had the boy heard anyway? He should have installed a privacy charm, he berated himself.

"Harry." He said, sitting down onto the edge of the sofa and turning the boy on his shoulder. "Speak to me, what has upset you so much?"

But again there was the headshake coming from the little imp and he schooled his face into his stern teacher mask.

"I do wish an answer, Mr. Potter." He sternly said, but a moment later he had an armful of sobbing and trembling little boy clinging to him and startled out of his wits he didn't know what to do for a moment before he sighed in defeat and brought his own arms around the small and skinny form.

"Child?" He again asked, still not able to think properly enough to regain his stern behavior, while he ran one hand over the boy's back soothingly. Merlin! He, Severus Snape, having a five year old clinging to him and sobbing into his shirt! He better made sure that no word of this got out or his reputation at Hogwarts would be destroyed forever.

"You … you go 'way." The boy sobbed into his stomach and for a moment he wondered why the child clung to him like a leech if he wanted him to go away, but then he understood.

_"__Taking into consideration that they have a new head of house and that many of them seem to miss you, I guess that they are doing very well. They know that you will come back and – even if I never will understand it – they are afraid of disappointing you. You have your own house raised very well, my dear boy."_

Merlin! Did the boy really want having him around so desperately that he …

Stupid question!

Of course the boy did.

He was the only one in the boy's life so far who actually had done some things to make it easier for him, who seemed to understand and who was ready to give comfort. Of course the boy desperately wanted him, Snape, around. It was nothing else than it was with his Slytherins after all. They too wanted him around and they feared disappointing him because they too wished for his approval and for his care.

"I will not go anywhere without you, you silly child." He growled, making a decision here and now. "We are working on a solution to get you away from the Dursleys and the moment I go back to my old school, I will take you with me." And he would do just that, he promised himself at that moment. "I will not leave you alone, you silly child." He confirmed. Potter needed a guardian and if possible one from the wizarding world.

The boy already showed signs of suppressing his magic and if nothing was done about that he would end up as a squib and he wouldn't stand for that. The boy also needed someone whom he was comfortable with and apparently that was he, Snape, as ridiculous as it seemed to him, and so the only logical decision would be him. Not to mention that as a teacher at Hogwarts he would be able teaching the boy until he was old enough to visit the wizarding primary school at Hogsmead and later on attending Hogwarts itself.

"And no, I do not wish to hear anything against my decision, Albus!" He growled at the old man that just then had appeared in the doorframe to the parlor.

"Oh, but I didn't say anything, my dear Severus." The headmaster chuckled before looking at the boy that had turned in his arms and was now looking at the old man with startled and large eyes.

Well, even with the now definitely appropriate clothes – at least for Albus' standards – the headmaster still looked very strange to a child that had been brought up in a muggle environment like Harry. The long and white hair that fell over the old man's back, the long and white beard that went down to his waistband and that infuriating twinkle in those blue eyes behind the half moon spectacles – no, Albus surely did still not look like a normal muggle.

"Good afternoon, Harry." Albus then said, coming closer and sitting into one of the armchairs. "Would you like a lemon drop?"

Of course that particular question would come, Severus thought, scowling at the blasted man and for a moment he actually was inclined to scold the man for his question. The boy's stomach surely was not up for a lot of sweets and he surely wouldn't allow him any with the knowledge that he maybe would be ill later, when he was back at the Dursleys. But Potter beat him to it as he quickly shook his head, looking scared and unconsciously pressing himself closer into his, Snape's arms who – just as unconsciously – tightened his hold he had on the boy's bony frame.

"Well, maybe next time." Albus said. "So – you're ready to take little Harry in, Severus. I'm sure that Elsa will be very glad hearing this. She always complains about too few families being ready taking in foster children and I am sure that this surely will speed up things."

"This, Harry, is headmaster Dumbledore. However, we still have to be very careful." The Potions Master said while looking down at the boy that still was resting in his arms. "You will have to be very careful with what you tell your uncle, Harry." He then said. "You are not to tell him anything you heard here today."

"Know." The boy quietly whispered. "Don' talk wif un'le V'non. Un'le V'non mad wif 'Awwy den."

"I know, and it is good that you do not speak to him much." He said. "But you will have to be careful so that you do not accidentally let anything you heard slip anyway. You do know how important that is, Harry?"

"Yes, sir." The boy obediently answered while quickly nodding his head. "You welly … 'mean … you …"

"Yes, you silly child." He growled the moment he had figured out what the boy wanted to know. "I really will take you with me. You just have to be very careful. Next week someone from child welfare will visit us at school and we will see where we will go from there then. Just do not tell your aunt and uncle that there had been a visitor at school."

"Won't." The boy quickly said while shaking his head. "'Awwy be good."

"I do know that you are a good boy." He couldn't help saying, couldn't help running his hand through the boy's messy hair.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_Another week starts – another day and other ideas_…

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	15. rain, rain, go away

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

October, 21st 2011

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_"That might be the best solution anyway." He sighed. "If your uncle however asks – then just tell him that you had to clean the floors and the kitchen. Never tell him that you got something to eat here and never tell him that I let you sleep here either."_

_The boy quickly shook his head and Snape got back to the oven and got the soup over to the table. He got the toast and then went back to the table sitting down._

_"Let's eat something." He simply said, handing the boy from the soup and a toast. "And then you may sleep."_

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter fifteen**

**Rain, rain, go away**

"Rain, rain, go away." He said, close to feeling silly upon using a nursery rhyme but knowing that he had to begin somewhere. "Come again some other day, little Harry wants to play. So, start with the first line: rain, rain, go away. Repeat it."

But well, the boy only looked at him, unsurely, as if he didn't know what he wanted of him – and did _not_ repeat those blasted four little words.

"Harry?" He asked, frowning at the boy.

"Why?" The boy asked, looking up at him with large eyes.

"Because it is imperative that you improve your speech, Harry." He said, wondering what it was with those blasted toddlers, Gabriel not wanting to draw his name and Harry not wanting to improve his speech. Well – he was sure that Harry _wanted_ to, _really_ wanted to – the boy just was too scared, didn't understand, didn't know the reason as to why as never anyone had seen to his learning.

"'Kay." Little Harry said, his shoulders dropping as if it were something bad having to teach him how to improve his speech and he knew the reason – never before had anyone bothered and the boy only had ever heard how worthless and useless he was.

"Just repeat it, Mr. Potter." He said, trying to sound patient instead of irritated. "Rain, rain, go away."

Again there was a slight hesitance coming from the five year old, but then –

"Wain, wain, go 'way." The boy said, looking up at him with large eyes and he gave a curt nod. It wasn't perfect and he knew this, but it was a beginning. The most important thing was that Harry believed that they worked on his speech so that he would not accidentally tell his uncle something different.

**Flashback**

_"It is imperative that Potter learns to speak a bit more clearly, Vernon." He said, his tone of voice nearly a suffering tone. "If he does not, it will come back to me the moment he attends primary school and surely I will not stand for that. I am sure you do understand this."_

_"Of course, Severus." The idiot man agreed. "So what do you suggest? Surely you can't do that while teaching the others as well?"_

_"Of course that would be impossible." The Potions Master said, knowing that he had the man where he wanted him. "I will have to sacrifice some of my value time to teach the brat."_

_"In this case you of course have to pay nothing for the boy cleaning your house, Severus – no! I won't hear anything against it, it's not your fault that the bloody boy is so stupid and that's my last word on this!"_

**End flashback**

Yes, the moment he had brought Harry home on Sunday evening, had suggested his speaking lessons to Dursley while they had a beer together in the garden, he had known that it would come to that – and he was more than just satisfied. Not only had he now a reason to keep the boy a bit longer on the weekends now if necessary, at least once in a while, but he also had a reason to keep the boy longer at pre-school in the evenings. It simply was another advantage he now had.

And so he of course had to stuck to it now, seeing that Harry was a five year old child only and seeing that the boy easily could let slip something accidentally. He had to make sure that Harry believed it himself that he had those speaking lessons – not to mention that the extra attention surely would do wonders on a neglected soul like little Harry's.

"Come again some other day." He repeated, saying the next line and again there was a slight hesitation during which the boy looked up at him for a moment before doing as he was asked and repeating the line.

"Come 'gain some oder day." The boy then said and well, that nearly had been correct except for the boy swallowing a letter and his usual troubles with the th that other children that age had as well.

"Little Harry wants to play." He finished, knowing well that in the original rhyme it was Little Johnny that wanted to play – but well, this suited him much more. It would have a note the boy could associate himself with, something that would be very important for this neglected child.

"Lill' Awwy wanna t'lay." The boy then repeated, again looking at him with hopefully large eyes that held a bit too much unsureness for his liking.

"Alright, let us begin with your name." The Potions Master then said, knowing that they indeed would have a long way ahead of them. "It's Harry. Say it with an H at the beginning. Harry."

"Awwy."

"Harry."

"Awwy."

"H-arry."

"Awwy?"

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Well, if he had thought that it would be that easy, then he surely had thought wrong, because in the end Harry had been able to say the H at the beginning of his name, but not the r instead of his usual w and so his name had gone from Awwy to Hawwy but still not to Harry. They would work on this a bit more, but not now.

The other children would be there soon, as well as Miss Harvest, even if he didn't know when exactly the social worker from wizarding child welfare would arrive.

"You do remember that Miss Harvest from child welfare will arrive today, don't you?" He asked the boy who slumped in his chair, getting smaller in the act and looking lost for all he could tell.

"Yes, sir." The boy again, obediently and respectfully said.

"Good." Severus then said, taking a deep breath. "Would you like resting before that or partaking in the morning classes?" He then asked, gaining a quick headshake from the small wizard.

"Mornin' Mr. Snape!" Gabriel nearly shouted the moment the boy entered the classroom just when he considered suggesting that Harry took a small nap nevertheless. "See! I've gotten new shoes!" The boy called out and running towards him with his shoes on instead of exchanging them for his none slipping socks like his sister was doing at that precise moment, shaking her head at her brother's antics, showing him his new shoes, blue trainers with red stripes and shoe laces – and he groaned inwardly, sure that the boy wasn't able to tie his shoes by himself and already knowing who had to do this instead while he at the same time cursed the boy's parents to hell and back for not buying him shoes with a Velcro.

"Yes, I can see, Gabriel." He said, trying to not sound annoyed. "Very nice, but surely that is no reason to walk with your wet shoes through the classroom. Go and exchange them for your none slipping socks."

"But I had to show you!" The boy said, grinning at him and he lifted his eyebrow at him.

"Yes, that is very well, and I have seen. Now go and exchange them please."

He gave a short flick of his wrist the moment the children were not looking to get rid of the wet dirt on the floor, seeing that it had been raining all morning. It surely wouldn't do if the others got wet socks because of the soaked floor and a moment later the wet footprints were gone.

He had done the same with Harry the moment he had picked him up on his way to school. Not as completely as he had done now, but just a bit so the boy wouldn't be so wet anymore, then a bit later again so the boy would be near dry and after that a third time that had dried the boy completely.

Well, it surely would have been strange if Harry had been dry from one moment to the other, something that surely wouldn't have done any good, neither to him, nor to the boy. He meanwhile knew what Vernon and Petunia Dursley thought of magic, especially Vernon Dursley and he also knew that they never had told Harry of magic either, that it actually was a forbidden word within their household, that they rather had told the boy about his parents having died in a car crash – again his blood nearly started boiling at the mere thought of such a thing, but well – it was that way and he knew that he would have to be very careful while handling Harry and magic together, knew that it would be anything but easy.

But well – wasn't there a lot that would be difficult when it came to this particular boy? A seven year old child but already more damaged than some of his Slytherins normally were.

Harry was sitting at the blue carpet, the one in front of the bookshelf where he got the book with the train engines and with the fire trucks and the ambulance and the police cars, the one he always was reading in the mornings before the other children came. He loved this book and he was sure, one day, when he was big, then he would drive such a car as well. Not an ambulance, surely not! He'd seen enough blood, and things and pain so that he surely didn't need driving that car. But he would drive the police car one day or the fire truck! Or he would drive such a train engine one day.

Well, if uncle Vernon let him live until then, he thought. Uncle Vernon always said that he should have drowned him when he was a baby, like aunt Marge made with her dogs that were whelps and had bad blood, like his mother had had. He didn't understand why that was so, but aunt Marge said it was and aunt Marge knew a lot of such things.

And aunt Petunia too said that he was a whelp and that there was something wrong with him.

Furrowing his face he turned a bit on the carpet he was sitting at so that he nearly was with his back to them. Not entirely, but nearly. He still was able seeing what they did if he so wished. But he was a bit with his back to them and so he could pretend being alone, could imagine that the others were not there, it was a bit easier to block out the noise a bit. The low murmur of conversation simply grated on his nerves and he just wished that he could have his blessed silence back.

At the weekend it had been just his teacher and himself and there had been silence. There had been no Dudley who screamed at either him or aunt Petunia for more ice cream or uncle Vernon for going out on a soccer game. And there was no uncle Vernon who screamed at him for not doing his chores fast enough or good enough, or at aunt Petunia because she was too 'lenient' at him, whatever that was. And there was no aunt Petunia who screamed at him in her high voice, even though he sometimes thought that she screamed less at him without uncle Vernon being home.

Silence simply was almost a precious thing that rarely happened but that almost had been a given while he'd been together with his teacher during the weekend – but now, now the hum of voices in the room was distracting him and nearly hurting his head. It was unnerving and he wished that it was gone, that it was as silent as it had been at number seven.

If only he could live there forever. He'd been a bit surprised to find that his teacher didn't have children – at least he hadn't seen some and he doubted that they simply had been outside. People had pictures of their children on the walls – not of him though, because he was no ones child – but of their own children and Mr. Snape had not had pictures of any children on the walls. And there hadn't been drawings except for the one _he_ had done for the teacher on the fridge either, even if he still didn't understand why the man had really taped it there. Uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia surely never would have done so, they rather would have given him a good beating for suggesting such a thing.

And Mr. Snape had not cooked for a lot of people either but only for two people, not to mention that he had not seen Mrs. Snape. And surely a man couldn't have children without a woman? So – in other words, Mr. Snape maybe didn't have children at all, but if he didn't have, then wherefrom did he know so much? And how was it that he always seemed to know what he, Harry, needed or wanted at one point or another? He just didn't understand.

Frowning Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy sitting in front of the bookshelf, actually feeling the hesitant but otherwise raw magic that came from the child.

So far the boy never had displayed any kind of accidental magic and this was the first time that he felt exactly that, magic other than the magical signature radiating off the child, and he shifted his concentration from Mikey and Christine Creighton who just had come back from their holidays to the young wizarding boy who was sitting there on the carpet in front of that book shelf – and yes, there was magic other than the boy's magical signature, Harry definitely was doing magic.

Unconsciously, he was sure of that, seeing that the boy was so deeply lost in his thoughts that he even had forgotten the book he had been looking at, the one he had been looking at in the mornings when he had come to St. Catherine until he, Snape, had started the breakfast with the boy.

Reaching out with his own senses and mind he carefully skimmed the boy's surface images within his mind, not delving deeper into the child's mind. He never would do so unless it would be absolutely necessary as a mind so young easily could be harmed by invading it with legillimence – and thankfully that was not necessary now. The child did not even realize that he was doing magic subconsciously, the silencing charm he had cast around himself a result of a deep wish for silence only.

Accidental magic, but where other wizarding children weren't able to control their accidental magic not even with eleven years when they started Hogwarts – this five year old child was. Harry was able to control his accidental magic, and to a point where it not only did what he wished it doing but was so subtle and hidden despite its rawness – it nearly was a small miracle. Never before had he seen any child being able doing such. Not that he knew many children that age, but he had known a few of the Slytherins from before they had entered Hogwarts, he knew Draco and Draco surely would be a great wizard one day – at least if he would follow his father instead of his aunt and uncles. Not even with Narcissa he was entirely sure where her loyalties laid, but he was sure with Lucius and he still thought that the Malfoy aristocrat never should have married one of the Black sisters. But well – Lucius had and now he had a reputation to keep, lust like he, Severus, while in secret he had spied alongside him, and still spied alongside him.

"Professor Snape?" Came a calm woman's voice and upon turning his eyes away from the boy he had been watching for only Merlin knew how long, he faced Miss Elsa Harvest, a smaller and elderly woman who had her grey hair tied into a tight bun at the back of her head, her face stern looking and dressed in a navy blue coat and skirt, a white blouse with a golden clasp and black shoes. He knew that Miss Harvest had not dressed up for this visit in a muggle school, such a costume and blouse being her usual way of dressing, but she had left away her normally black and short travelling cloak she would wear under different circumstances.

"Miss Harvest." He greeted her with an inclining of his head and then led her towards his desk.

"I take it that this is little Harry?" The woman quietly asked and he nodded.

"I have them taking free time shortly before lunch each day to see what they prefer as generally with a task set I only learn what they avoid doing." He then answered. "There however seems to be nothing else than looking through this particular book what the boy prefers."

"Hmm." Miss Harvest quietly mused. "Most mistreated children stuck to one toy or book in order to have something that simply is a constant in their lives. Which is the boy's mat?"

"The one with the green and blue cover." He answered, pointing at the mat that was Harry's.

"Seeing how small and thin that boy is, and reading your and Dumbledore's report, I had not thought that they would provide the child with such a nice blanket and a plushy." The idiot woman said and he couldn't help groaning inwardly.

"They didn't." He simply hissed out from between his clenched teeth, his dark eyes piercing the woman and daring her to say something about it – but Elsa Harvest was intelligent enough to not comment on it and a quiet "I see" was all she said.

"Who's this, Professor Snape?" She then asked, pointing at David and he sighed.

"That is David Arlington, another boy who had been abused at home, but I do hope that we have at least this situation under control."

"How so?" Elsa Harvest asked, eyeing this boy as close as she had eyed Harry before.

"We only recently have learned that it actually has been his mother who has beaten the boy." Severus answered. "She has had an accident however and David now is in care of his father. I already impressed upon him how important it is that he goes to his lawyer for gaining at least temporary guardianship until Mrs. Arlington has been to a therapy."

Again Miss Harvest nodded.

"Well, it is lunchtime." The Potions Master then said. "If you like joining us, Miss Harvest?"

"But of course, Professor Snape." The woman said with a smile.

"Very well." He inclined his head. "Mikey, it is your turn to clear the table and Christine, please take a cloth to wipe over the surface. All others please get your lunch boxes and David, please bring Harry's with you."

"'K, Mr. Snape." The boy said, running over to the wall where they had their bags.

"We've always eaten outside!" Mikey complained and Severus turned towards the boy who had been in holidays still with his sister and with his parents last week.

"Yes, you have eaten outside in the past." He said to the boy, trying to look serious while not threatening at the same time – a rather difficult task he had learned with the time, to find a mixture between the two. "After some of the older children however have bullied some raccoons – I have decided that we would have lunch inside and together, and that we would go out after we have finished."

"'K." The boy made, unimpressed and pouting, but he let him and turned towards Harry who had already put his book away and now stood there, watching him unsurely.

"Come now, Harry." He said, waving the boy over and then turning him towards Miss Harvest. "That is Miss Harvest, Harry." He then quietly said. "She is the woman from child welfare I have told you about."

The elderly woman looked at him for a moment, with an eyebrow lifted curiously, but then she extended her hand towards the boy. Well, it was not common to announce a visit from child welfare at school after all and so of course she was a bit startled that he had told Harry.

"Good Morning, Mr. Potter." She said while reaching out her hand – which Harry didn't take.

The boy instead looked up at his teacher whom was standing beside him and only when he gave a slight inclining of his head away did Harry extend his hand as well to take the woman's hand with his own smaller one, the fingers shaking and the hand ready to be snatched back at any time.

The woman looked at the boy for a few moments and Severus was sure that she did use a mild form of legillimence – and he also was sure that Harry noticed it, his eyes growing large for a moment, just a second before his pale cheeks softly reddened and he averted his eyes. Well, he was no fried of legillimizing a child, but he also knew that Elsa Harvest knew her field of work, seeing that she had done so since many years – and successfully so. It had been her after all who had gotten most of his abused Slytherins out of their abusive homes. Not all of them and he knew how difficult it was with the Death Eater children, but most of them.

"Ah, good morning, Mr. Arlington." Elsa Harvest said the moment David brought over Harry's bag and the boy looked at her with just as large eyes as Harry had. But not because of the ministry worker legillimizing him, but because of being addressed by a strange woman he never had seen before. Quickly the boy grabbed Harry's hand and pulled the other boy to the table, causing the elderly woman to chuckle lightly.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"This is the entire class, Professor Snape?" Miss Harvest asked and he couldn't help groaning at the use of his title in front of the idiot children who already had their heads stuck together, whispering and surely exchanging their fleas.

"Finally, yes." He answered, reaching an extra sandwich he had prepared for the blasted woman towards her. If he had to suffer and eat together with the little snots, then she would have to do the same. "Mikey and Christine Creighton have been on holidays still last week, and it is their first day back at pre-school."

"No wonder he is not used to your new teaching style." Miss Harvest said while taking the sandwich without looking as if she suffered at all, that blasted woman. "I take it you have gotten used to this job rather quickly, Professor. I hadn't believed it at first when Dumbledore told me about your new job here."

"Why'd'you call Mr. Snape professor?" Warren asked and Harvest smiled at the boy's question.

"Because he is a professor, Mr. –"

"Blacksmith." Severus answered at the boy's blank look he threw towards him in a clear way of seeking help because he didn't understand what the older woman wanted of him. "Warren Blacksmith."

"Ah, Mr. Blacksmith." She then answered. "Well … Mr. Snape – _is_ a professor and so he has earned the respect to be called by his title."

"And why'd'you call me Mr. Blacksmith and not Warren?" the boy then asked. "Mr. Snape always calls me Warren, like Miss Adams had, but he only calls me Mr. Blacksmith when I've done something wrong."

"You surely didn't do something wrong, my dear boy, would you like me calling you Warren instead?" Harvest asked and he could see that the woman had her eyes during the conversation not only on that boy but on the other children as well, especially on Harry and the way he ate, taking small and slow bites, and on David – and for a moment he wondered why Harvest was so interested in David as well. David was no wizarding child after all and therefore not her responsibility, but on the other hand – he knew that muggle child welfare and wizarding child welfare often worked together, even if they had one or another disagreement when it came to the upbringing of children.

As it seemed, he guessed that soon they would have a visit from one or another worker from muggle child welfare as well.

Seeing Andrew exchanging his sandwich with Gabriel out of the corner of his eyes – beneath the table and surely in hopes he would _not_ see it – he lifted his eyebrow and walked over to the two boys, standing behind them and then waiting for a moment until both of them looked around the table with bated breath to see if anyone had noticed. He waited a bit longer until both of them released their breath in relief and relaxed.

And just then he cleared his throat, causing both miscreants to turn around and looking up at him startled, their eyes large and their mouths hanging agap.

"Nice try, Andrew." He drawled, standing behind the boy and looking down at him with a lifted eyebrow while the boy himself looked up at him startled and with a not only visible but audible gulp. "I am sure that your mother _does_ pack you enough different lunch packages so that you do not have to try and go against her orders and surely especially not if it concerns your health as the salami sandwich you have exchanged with Gabriel has enough salt for you to last in your body for an entire week. I am sure you do not with this particular experience, do you?"

The boy quickly shaking his head was answer enough to him and with a frown he pointed at the sandwiches of the two boys who just as quickly changed them back. Of course he had stored a potion here that would get rid of the salt in the boy's body so that he would not have to suffer from swollen and stiff hands and feet, and neither from a too high blood pressure, but he would prefer not having to use that potion at all, knowing that it would be a bit strange if he could get rid of the unpleasant – and during the night actually painful – symptoms in such a short time. Andrew's mother had told him that the boy actually lay in his bed during the night and crying with pain in his swollen limbs when it was really bad and he had gotten too much salt.

Looking up from the boy he noticed the silent chuckle Harvest was fighting with and he scowled at the blasted woman. Let it be that woman being present at such a moment and finding the situation quite amusing!

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Harvest had been present for an hour or two longer, until they had finished their lunch break and had been out for playing around. She had lightly conversed with him and with some of the other children and then she had left for Miss Davenport to have a word with the headmistress of St. Catherine. Luckily before he was to read to the little toddlers – so that they would not have been distracted from sleep by her presence – what however only would have destroyed his reputation completely.

After that the woman had only for a moment poked her head inside to say good bye and even if she had not given any information about her opinion away – he had known that she would do something or she would have called him outside to tell him. The children had soon after woken and the afternoon classes had gone by very well.

Some of the children had – despite the rain – gone home by themselves, like always, slipping into rain coats and rain boots or taking their umbrellas, happily running outside and surely hopping from puddle to puddle on their way home, while some of them had been picked up by their parents, mostly their mothers but in David's case, by his father.

Well, he had noticed that the boy – despite that it had been weekend – had been as happy and as free today than he'd been last week on Thursday and Friday. Alone the way he had taken Harry's hand and had pulled the other boy towards the table had shown him enough – David was well and he was ready to finally interact with other children.

He shortly had informed Mr. Arlington about Elsa Harvest's visit and that – maybe – someone from child welfare would visit him later in the week. The man had nodded at him and he had not looked as if such a visit would startle or frighten him. Then he had taken Harry aside and had repeated their speaking lessons for a short while before taking him nearly home in his car. He only stopped a block away from number four, just before reaching sight of the Dursleys residence and he told the boy to be there tomorrow morning again so that he would not have to walk the entire way to school. He had waited, watching the boy running home through the rain on his small legs and then disappearing inside of number four.

Only then he had started driving the remainder of the way home, had started the coffee maker and had taken the newspaper from the letter box, placing the muggle newspaper to the wizarding one that lay on his kitchen table.

He was just about to get a bit more comfortable when his doorbell rang and for a moment he frowned, wondering who in Merlin's name would visit him! Surely not a muggle as he had no dealings with them except for being the pre-school teacher and any parent who wanted a word with him surely would not visit him at home but at school. And surely it would be not a wizard either as any wizard knowing where to find him at the present time definitely would not use such a way of visiting him but would use the floo.

But then –

Harry!

Maybe the boy had gotten into trouble with his uncle and had come to him for help, maybe he'd been beaten and now was injured, maybe he …

Taking a deep breath he forced himself to be calm instead of ripping open the door and – luckily so, as no one else than Vernon Dursley was outside his front door.

"Good evening, Vernon." He said, his mind running a mile per minute. What was Dursley doing here? What had happened that the man was here, visiting him? What …

"Severus." The man smiled brightly at him and for a moment he wondered how it came that this blasted, idiot man seemed to like him! "Have a moment?"

"Of course, Vernon, do come in." He said, opening the door fully and leading the man into his kitchen. "Do you care for a cup of coffee or would you prefer tea?" He then asked and for a moment he frowned at the strange gleam that appeared in the man's eyes, an evil gleam, before he told him that – he would prefer a cup of coffee.

"Dudders told me you're a professor, _Mr._ _Snape_." Dursley began, chuckling, while he placed a cup in front of the man. "It's making a round throughout school."

"Of course I am." He said, frowning and trying to not sound worried. How had Dursley taken this information? Had he felt betrayed by him? Had he lost the man's trust and therefore a means of keeping Harry at least somewhat safe and out of their house? "I have been a chemistry teacher at a very respectable institution like Hathaway Academy after all and surely you did not think that they would employ any simply teacher?"

"Of course not, my friend!" Dursley beamed at him and he had to keep himself from taking a deep breath of relief – and grimacing in disgust at the man calling him _'friend'_. "But why haven't you told us sooner? A Professor! Really!"

"I am not used to brag about things." He said, playing the shy man while bringing the cup of coffee over to the kitchen table.

"Nonsense, Severus!" Dursley boomed. "Surely you've earned your title and you should use it!"

"The children in my class are four year old – toddlers, Vernon, and they do not value a title – nor are some of them even able pronouncing the word correctly." He said while taking his own cup to the table as well and sitting down opposite Dursley, inwardly seething with fury at having to have the man sitting in his kitchen. "I of course expect my older students using my title when addressing me, but those four year old children don't even know what a professor is. For them I am a simple teacher."

"Ah, you might be right, Severus." Dursley shook his head sadly and took a sip of the coffee. "Nevertheless, a professor! You should have told us, you're one of our son's teachers, we're neighbors, we're practically friends!"

Well, as much as he despised being called friends with the Dursleys, he nevertheless saw the opportunity in it and so he forced himself to give a agreeing smile away that caused Vernon Dursley to relax further and looking around the kitchen more freely. His eyes fell on the drawing that was taped to his fridge and the Potions Master frowned at the smile the man gave away.

"Nice picture, one of your students?" The idiot man asked and he shook his head.

"My son." He calmly said.

"Your son?" The man asked, incredulously. "I haven't been aware that you have a son. Where is he?"

"He is with his mother in Callander still." He answered, improvising. "They visit as often as possible of course, but as my wife has her work there, they couldn't move in together with me for the year."

"Callander!" Vernon Dursley called out, an expression of shock on his face. "Isn't there a famous golf club over there? Ah, well … your wife's working? What a pity! What's she doing anyway?"

"A pity?" He asked, actually chuckling at the very idea. "I do not think so. She is the deputy headmistress at Hathaway after all." Oh, Minerva better _never_ learned of this particular conversation! "She would have my head if I just _suggested_ that she stopped working at school as she loves her children as she so emotionally calls them."

"Incredible!" The idiot man called out. Was Dursley really impressed by such trivial things? Apparently! "Ah, but well, that's not the only reason I've come." The man said and again Severus took a deep breath, lifted his eyebrow at the blasted whale of a man sitting on his kitchen chair while trying to look casually and not worried. "Petunia and I are on a trip to Amsterdam for the weekend. Our Dudders will stay with my sister of course, and I wanted to ask you if you could take the boy. He's been with Mrs. Figg at some times, but that bloody old woman always coddled the boy and afterwards had accused us of hurting the boy. Blasted woman!"

"Of course, Vernon." He said, grimacing at having to use the man's given name. "I am sure that I will find some work for the boy."

Well, if he had the boy for an entire weekend, then he could have a closer look at him and he could make sure that the boy had enough to eat for a few days. And – if he had Harry for one weekend, then maybe he could get the child for a second or a third weekend as well. He would see where this was leading to.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_A__ witch __at __the __Dursleys_ _home_ …

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …


	16. a witch at number four

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Date:**

December, 16th 2011

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_"Of course, Vernon." He said, grimacing at having to use the man's given name. "I am sure that I will find some work for the boy."_

_Well, if he had the boy for an entire weekend, then he could have a closer look at him and he could make sure that the boy had enough to eat for a few days. And – if he had Harry for one weekend, then maybe he could get the child for a second or a third weekend as well. He would see where this was leading to._

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter sixteen**

**A witch at number four**

She wasn't stupid and she knew what she had to do and what she had to avoid, she was a Slytherin after all and she also had to deal with the Slytherins after all. For a moment she frowned, wondering why in Merlin's name Severus never had asked her about her house – really, the young man sometimes looked as if he would like to know.

Shaking her head she knocked at the door of number four, Privet Drive. She liked the young Slytherin head of house and she had nearly laughed when Dumbledore had told her – Snape had overtaken a pre-school class at a muggle school. She soon after had gone serious again however, knowing that without the young teacher the Slytherins would have a hard time. Snape always had protected them. Who would do so now, except of Poppy?

The door opening called her concentration back at the present situation – and made her frown at the whale of a man standing in front of her in the doorway.

"We won't buy anything!" The whale of a man – Vernon Dursley, she knew – said in an angry voice.

"I am not here to sell anything." Elsa said, frowning, playing the horrified woman at alone such a thought. "My name is Harvest. Elsa Harvest, and I am here to question your wife, Mrs. Petunia Dursley about her beautiful roses. She has been nominated for the Great Britain Flower Competition in London for the year 1985. It is the first year that this competition is held in Great Britain and only ten participants from your home country are allowed after all. But well, if you prefer to not partaking, then I will leave and …"

"Oh, but no!" Dursley gasped, wide eyed and she nearly snorted. "Do come in, Mrs. Harvest. I'm sure Petunia will be so very happy about the great news. Would you care for a cup of tea? We're just about having breakfast!"

Frowning Elsa Harvest followed the fat man into the kitchen, immediately taking in the expensive equipment as well as the much too overweight boy and her frown deepened. So this was the Dursleys' son that got anything he wanted. She would have to make sure that this stopped too, that boy's health clearly was at risk here, not to mention the boy's moral as well.

"Good morning, Mrs. Dursley." She greeted upon entering the kitchen, noticing that Petunia Dursley, a thin woman, did stand up to greet her back, her pale eyes going over to her husband questioningly for a moment.

"Good morning, Mrs. …" The woman asked questioningly.

"Elsa Har- …"

"That's Mrs. Harvest, Petunia, dear and you're nominated for the flower competition." Vernon Dursley interrupted her and she frowned at the man who seemed to have no manners at all. "I've always said that your roses are the best of Little Whinging, Petunia!"

"But who would have nominated my roses and what competition is it anyway, Mrs. Harvest?" Petunia Dursley asked, extending her hand at the empty seat on the table and Elsa Harvest wondered where Harry was, if Petunia had him already shoved out of the house for pre-school.

"It is the Great Britain Flower Competition in London for the year 1985, Mrs. Dursley." Elsa Harvest said. "It is a yearly competition that is held by participants from all over the world and you have been nominated for your home country by Mrs. Figg, your neighbor."

"Mrs. Figg?" Petunia frowned. "But she has roses by her own."

"Well, apparently she knew that your roses are prettier than are hers, I guess?" The ministry worker said. "I do not know her reasoning, I only know that you have been nominated by her for your beautiful roses, and if I look over your garden, then I have to admit that they are very beautiful indeed. This is your son, I take it?"

"Yes, Mrs. Harvest." Petunia said. "It is Dudley, our son."

"Ah, the bliss of being an only child, Mr. Dursley." She said, smiling at the boy and noticing how the boy looked at her, dumb and confused. "Well, if you accept, then I will have to ask a few questions of you. It surely won't take longer than a few hours during your morning, just so that the people watching the competition on the television show may learn to know you."

"A television show?" Vernon Dursley, the idiot man asked.

"Yes. Mr. Dursley." Elsa Harvest said, frowning at the man. "It is the first year that there will be a television show about the flower competition and of course we need some information about the participants. If you however are against your wife being in the show, then we of course …"

"Of course not, Mrs. Harvest!" Dursley gasped, shocked, and she had known that he would fall for it. "Do go on, do go on, please."

"Thank you, Mr. Dursley." Elsa Harvest smiled sweetly. "Well, Mrs. Dursley, you surely do understand, the television viewers would like to know the participants, who they are, what they like and where they live. For now I just would ask you a few questions – if you are available, that is."

"I will have to bring Dudley to pre-school." Petunia Dursley said, unsurely, but her husband waved her off.

"Nonsense, Petunia dear, I will take our Dudders to pre-school today." He said, getting off his chair and waving over his son. "Come on, Dudders, let's get you to pre-school so that your mummy has a bit of time for herself and that nice lady."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Cursing under his breath Severus Snape went back to the rest room, hoping that Harry still was there after the fiasco this morning, and not for the first time today he wished he could relent on his magical abilities, summoning a house elf for help or at least sending a patronus to summon the headmistress.

But no, he was living with muggles right now and he was to keep up appearance, had to keep up his disguise – something he was a Master with, keeping up his disguise, seeing that he was a spy after all. He neither could call for Zilly nor could he produce a patronus and so he'd had to leave Harry alone in the rest room to get the headmistress for help, in the midst of a panic attack caused by an idiot and because he couldn't leave the other students alone for too long.

Merlin, if he had known that … shaking his head and growling in anger he hurried through the corridors. He wouldn't stand for this anymore! If Davenport and Howell on the muggle side, and Dumbledore and Harvest on the wizarding side didn't come up with a solution soon, then he simply would abduct the boy and leave England with him if he must. As a Potions Master he had connections all over the world after all, it wouldn't be too difficult to go into hiding.

At the same time however he knew – living in hiding, it wouldn't be a life that was acceptable for a child, for any child, and especially Harry. This particular child had been living in fear for long enough now and … blast that man! This school here was meant for the boy to be a save haven … the boy wasn't supposed to feel scared here …

**Flashback**

_This morning hadn't been too easy. _

_Harry had come to the corner a block from Privet Drive where it met Wisteria Walk nearly ten minutes late and he almost had turned and driven back to have a look where the boy kept himself. But then he had seen the child appearing in the rear view mirror and he immediately had known that something was wrong. _

_Getting off the car he had gone to the passenger's seat, had opened the door and then had waved the child in quickly. He had cast a secret diagnostic, just in case, and he then had breathed a sigh of relief as there was noting serious except of a few new bruises. And of course there were new bruises, there always were! _

_But except of that, the child had been fine – but very tired, seeing that he barely had started the engine of the car – the boy had his eyes closed, breath evened out and was fast asleep. _

_Well, he of course had heard about small children falling asleep in the car and some mothers even took their children to a short trip in the night sometimes when they were unable to fall asleep because of an unwell stomach, teething or other such unpleasant things, knowing that never mind what, in the car they fell asleep within a few minutes. But Merlin! That applied to small babies, to nurslings, not to five year old children in pre-school._

_Sighing he turned into Magnolia Road and then drove along the lane, wondering what exactly might have kept the child from sleeping last night. He doubted that it had been Dursley, the man was a lazy ass that loved his comfortable sofa, his comfortable armchair, his comfortable padded chair in the kitchen, his comfortable car and therefore surely his comfortable bed as well. But he at the same time knew that Harry's lack of sleep last night surely had been caused by the idiot man, even if just indirectly. _

_Reaching the end of Magnolia Road he turned into the parking space from St. Catherine pre-school and then turned off the engine. _

**End flashback**

He had feared that he would startle the boy to death by waking him, but he also had known that he hardly could have him sleeping in the car and so he had reached over to place a hand onto the small shoulder before calling out his name, gently applying pressure a bit when Harry immediately opened his eyes. The boy however hadn't been half as startled as he had feared and – whatever reason for he had done so – had leaned into the touch for a moment before sitting up and looking wide eyed at him, as if he were ashamed of what he had done a moment before.

He had brought the child inside the kindergarten and then he'd had him eating breakfast before getting him to sleep in the rest room without bothering with any speaking lessons. The boy was exhausted and he needed his rest as much as he needed food.

For a moment the boy had given away a small whimper when he had started leaving the rest room and he had turned, had seated himself onto the edge of the cot, had extended his hand to place onto the boy's small hand, but Harry had beaten him to that, had grabbed his hand with both of his own small hands and had pulled it close, as if having it as a – sort of plushie to cuddle with. He had allowed it, secretly bathing in the feeling of being needed like this, of being wanted by this small child.

There was someone who wanted him, Severus Snape, dark and tough Potions Master that he was, but there was someone who wanted him, a child that wanted him in all its innocence and without any ulterior motives.

Oh, he didn't fool himself.

He knew that of course the child had ulterior motives, namely wishing that he might take him away from the place where he was beaten, starved and kept a slave. But it was a wish the child had, a secret wish and one he didn't even believe into let alone working for this goal. And so, those ulterior motives did not count as they were not really one.

This child simply wanted him!

He had left the rest room at one point or another and had gone to his classroom, and anything would have been fine, if there had not been a booming voice roaring through the pre-school wing of St. Catherine's half an hour later and he still cursed under his breath the moment he reached the door that led to the rest room.

**Flashback**

_The last children had arrived and they had already started their morning ritual, sitting on the soft and thick, blue carpet. He still refused to sit onto the floor together with them, and so he – like always – leaned against the sideboard, halfway sitting onto it while one foot still touched the ground. _

_David was sitting beside Eliot and he had noticed over the past few days since David was living with his father, that the boy had become more open, that he had started interacting with the other children – and that there was a small group forming, consisting of David, Eliot and Harry. Not that Harry really partook in the group actively, no – he rather was drawn close by the other two and felt himself unable to decline, and therefore succumbed._

_Well, they had started numbers the past few days and each day he'd had them gathering a specified number of toys. Today he would start with the alphabet. _

_"Who of you can name me a toy that starts with the letter 'A'?" He asked, gaining some lifted hands and some blank faces. Well, at least they meanwhile lifted their hands orderly instead of calling out things in a chaotic and stumbled mess. "Yes, Warren?"_

_"Apple." The boy said and he lifted his eyebrow. _

_"An apple is no toy, Warren." He calmly said and the boy shrugged his shoulders._

_"No, but I don' know one and mom said this morning 'a is for apple, b is for bed' and then she packed me an apple for lunchy though I didn' want one." The boy said, giving away a scowl at the thought. "And then mom said that the note you gave us yesterday told her that we all had to pack an apple for lunchy today."_

_"Yes, I can see how that would stay in your mind then." He chuckled. "And you are right of course, a is for apple. Your mother hopefully won't pack you a bed the moment we reach the letter 'b'. Now, what …"_

**End flashback**

He hadn't been able to finish his sentence as there had been a loud booming voice penetrating the normal quietness of the pre-school wing, calling out that of course Dudders was to show his daddy his classroom.

Of course a pre-school corridor never was really quiet, the voices of singing or talking children coming from different classrooms, the sounds of clapping hands or any other noises reaching the corridors of any pre-school, but at this time of the day, when all the classes held their morning meetings, sitting together orderly and quietly to get a hint of what was planned for the day – it was rather quiet. And so of course the noise of such a loud and booming voice would be heard for miles – and he scowled.

If he were Dursley's teacher and his uncle would barge in booming like an Bactrian Camel – he would have the man's hide, that much was for sure and – and not for the first time – he wondered if it were on purpose that the Dursley boy _always_ came too late for his classes to get more attention.

A moment later, just in the midst of his raccoons telling him what toys they had chosen and why they had done so, there had been a knock on his door and with another scowl on his face he had gone over to the door to open it instead of calling the person in – luckily.

**Flashback**

_"Yes, please?" He asked, sure that he would find Davenport in front of his door as there wasn't any interruptions on his classes normally – to find one Vernon Dursley in front of his door._

_"Just brought Dudders, Severus." The man smiled at him. "And thought I have a look on you."_

_"How nice of you, Vernon." He answered, seething inwardly. "I however do not have time for a chat as I have a class to teach." The nerve of this man, interrupting his class! Wasn't he a grown person with enough sense to know that a lesson is not to be disturbed? _

_"Of course, Severus, of course." Vernon smiled at him, trying to look around him at the children sitting on their carpet still, looking over at them curiously. "Maybe you'd like coming over this evening? I'll turn on the grill and we'll have steaks. And don't worry, they're edible seeing that I do them myself. I'd never allow anyone messing around with my steaks after all!"_

_"I do thank you very much for the invitation, Vernon and I of course will be there, but now I have to ask you to leave so that I can go on teaching the children."_

_"Of course, Severus, of course, I'm on my way already." The idiot man said, backing away with large eyes as if he had stumbled over a well kept secret. That he didn't put his finger to his mouth to indicate that he wouldn't give away anything was all! _

**End flashback**

Severus had gone back to the children, not sure how much Vernon had seen and if he had noticed that Harry was not amongst them while at the same time he had been listening on any disturbances on the corridor outside the classroom that would indicate that Dursley had entered the rest room and having an eye on the window.

The moment he had seen the idiot man leaving the pre-school grounds he had taken a deep breath, had told the children that he would have a look on Harry encase he had waken upon the ruckus and then he had left for the rest room – to find Harry in the midst of a panic.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Opening the door he took a deep breath and then entered the rest room again.

He had left when he had realized that he wouldn't get Harry calm anytime soon, had hurried to Davenport's office and had asked her to take over his class for a few minutes.

The woman at once had gotten off the armchair behind her desk without even any question and together they had hurried along the corridor and down the stairs while he had explained the situation to her in short words. She too had not been pleased at Vernon Dursley knocking at the doors to the classes and interrupting them, growling that they would have to think of something that would make sure that people like Dursley couldn't walk into the pre-school wing just like that.

Then Davenport had gone into his classroom while he had gone back into the rest room.

Well, Harry still was crouched down beneath the cot, squeezing into the farthest corner, but well, he now had all the time he needed to get the child from beneath that bed.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_A__ visit__ at __the __Dursleys_ …

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**house cup**

_alright, the question some of you have put up in my head, about being Slytherin or Gryffindor - or maybe any other house - it never had left my head so far and so I have thought about something … I don't know if it even will work, but well -_

_starting on January first, 2012 - just give away the house you'd be in, in your reviews, and any house will get a oint per review … I'll add them together and then I'll start a house cup … like I said, I don't know if it will work even, if you like the idea - but well, I'll take the risk and try it …_


	17. Kendra, the very old adder

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

First, my apology for disregarding this story for so long, but there simply has been others I had to go on with or finish first … I will work on this - or rather on them, to get all of them finished one by one so that I finally have a few less running at the same time …

second, I do thank you for all of your reviews, they are very much appreciated and I only can hope for your understanding in not answering to all of you in person like I normally do - they're just too much and I'd be at work for the remainder of the day - and it is quite early in the day …

however, this will be just one single-chapter in between to move the story up in the list - I know, it's a logic most of you surely won't understand or wouldn't call it logic at all, but anyway - it's my logic that is quite screwed, I know … :D … I'd do it by hand, moving it up in the rank, but well, that's not possible and so I have to do it per an added chapter as it is driving me quite crazy, seeing it on the wrong place …

again - all of you, thanks for reading and reviewing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs - whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_Opening the door he took a deep breath and then entered the rest room again._

_He had left when he had realized that he wouldn't get Harry calm anytime soon, had hurried to Davenport's office and had asked her to take over his class for a few minutes._

_The woman at once had gotten off the armchair behind her desk without even any question and together they had hurried along the corridor and down the stairs while he had explained the situation to her in short words. She too had not been pleased at Vernon Dursley knocking at the doors to the classes and interrupting them, growling that they would have to think of something that would make sure that people like Dursley couldn't walk into the pre-school wing just like that._

_Then Davenport had gone into his classroom while he had gone back into the rest room._

_Well, Harry still was crouched down beneath the cot, squeezing into the farthest corner, but well, he now had all the time he needed to get the child from beneath that bed._

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter seventeen**

**Kendra, the very old adder  
**

It surely hadn't been easy, convincing Harry to come forth from underneath that bloody bed and it had taken him more than just a few minutes. Half an hour actually had been gone before Harry had finally succumbed to his – despite his nature – patient words of reassurance that Vernon Dursley was gone now and that he wouldn't be harmed, that he still was safe here at St. Catherine.

Of course he could understand why the child was as upset as he actually was.

While at Privet Drive Harry surely wouldn't hide somewhere if his uncle called – nor would he refuse coming out of his hiding place then either – there here, here at St. Catherine, this place here had to be a safe haven for the child, here he had thought he was safe from his uncle, and here – Harry simply had been shocked to the core, that his uncle had come here, stomping and screaming through the corridors like a bactrian camel, and he was sure that little Harry had not been the only startled child this morning.

"It's your turn, Eliot, tell us what colours you see in the classroom, name me five of them please." He said while running his hand over Harry's back still.

He had brought little Harry back to the classroom after he had calmed down enough to cling to him, desperately, the little arms being wound around his neck in a tight grip, but the child had refused of letting him go and he actually had been forced to carry the five year old over the corridor at St. Catherine. And still, the child had clung to him, had refused of letting him go and he simply had gone to their mattresses, had taken the boy's blanket and had then wrapped the small figure into the blue and green soft fabric. He had taken Mr. Moo, had placed him in the boy's arms, and then he had sat down onto one of the small chairs at the table, little Harry still cradled in his arms, knowing, that the boy surely wouldn't partake in their lessons today, at least not during the morning, the small heart still beating like mad and the small body still trembling, even though only slightly meanwhile. Maybe it would get better in the afternoon, after their nap – if Harry would be able falling asleep at all, that was, something he somehow doubted. But well, he would see.

"There's yellow on the door, and there's blue on the carpets." Eliot told him, smiling happily. "And there's white on the ceiling and grey on the floor, and there's no colour on the windows."

"Very nice, Eliot, thank you." He said, huffing at the little imp. "No colour indeed, as glass generally has no colour at all, it is clear. Give me another five colours, Warren, please." He then added.

"Well, there's green on that bookshelf over there." The boy answered, his eyes nearly glued to Harry who was sitting on his lap, sideways, leaning his shoulder at his chest and resting his head at his shoulder. "And there's red on the table cloth on the small table there, and blue on the carpets."

"We've already had the carpets, Warren." He said. "It might be helpful if you look through the classroom."

"Well, then there's blue on the box with the Lego pieces." Warren said, his eyes still glued to little Harry instead of looking through the classroom, the boy therefore only able naming those colours that were in line of his view. "And there's white, on the paper in the bookshelf, and there's all colours at the same time at the books in the bookshelf."

"There is, yes, thank you, Warren." He then said, for a moment actually wondering why the boy would watch Harry so intensely while no other child did so. Eliot and David were watching Harry from time to time, but well – it was the golden trio after all meanwhile – Eliot, David and Harry, and so he didn't think much of it, but he couldn't think of a reason as to why Warren would look at the boy so intensely as he actually did, so that it was hindering him in fulfilling his given task. "What colours do you see, Isabelle?"

"That's easy." The girl said and he sighed, knowing that surely he would go mad if he had such a know-it-all in one of his potions classes at Hogwarts one day, and for seven years no less. "There's brown on that plush cat in the shelf and there's white on that cat on the window, the one I've made of paper, and it has blue eyes and black whiskers. And then there is grey on the cat sitting on my bed, and it has green eyes, just like Harry, I like green, you know?"

"Now I know, yes, thank you, that was very good, Isabelle." He said, nearly sighing again. Of course the bloody girl would search for every cat present in the classroom to describe the colours, this child was obsessed with cats. What startled him was the little fact that the girl had mentioned Harry's green eyes. Children that age normally didn't really pay attention to anyone's eyes, or at least wouldn't pay enough attention to actually mention it, but Isabelle had done so. Well – it was a strange girl, he couldn't deny that – as strange as was her mother, actually.

"That was six colours, Mr. Snape." Gabriel piped up, not lifting his hand and he frowned at the boy.

"Your hand, Gabriel." He reminded the young student. "I don't like you calling in between. But yes, you are correct, that were six colours. I am glad that you are paying so much attention to the lesson and there's no need to be upset Isabelle, I'm sure that Gabriel didn't mean it as a criticism but simply wanted to point it out. Why don't you pack all the cats around the classroom to their respectable places and then get your lunch box?" He then asked.

"What's res- … resteb- …"

"Respectable." He helped out – again. Merlin! He really should know better by now than using such big words in the presence of those bloody toddlers – and again, never mind what Albus said – they still were just that, bloody toddlers. "It means you take all the cats laying around and put them where they belong to. Christine, you please clear the large table in the middle of the classroom like you have seen your brother doing yesterday and Mikey, you please take a wet cloth and wipe over the surface."

"We've done yesterday already." Both children immediately complained and he lifted his eyebrow at them.

"You have." He admitted. "But you have done so the other way round. Now I want _you_ to clear the table, Christine and I want _you_ to wipe the surface, Mikey. Tomorrow two other children will overtake this task for two days and so on and the longer you argue with me over it, the longer it will take you while the others have to wait for their lunch – so I suggest that you just stop doing so and start."

Well, both children still complained – but they did as they were told and he stood, went over to his desk where he took the plastic plates and the plastic cups he had brought this morning and laid the table, with one hand only, as he still had little Harry clinging to his neck in a nearly death-like grip. He surely would not abandon the child right now, knowing that it would be hard enough, getting the boy to leave for his home in the evening. Bloody Dursley – he would wring the man's neck, did he not know perfectly well that he would end up in prison for it – something he couldn't afford as there still were some children – here at pre-school in form of Harry and David, and at Hogwarts too, in form of some of his Slytherins.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Kendra, the very old adder." He read, again. It was after lunchtime and time for their naps, and so – well, again he was reading a story. "Kendra, the very old adder, was just that, very old." He read. "Believe it or not, he was 176 years old, and his name was Kendra. Now most people surely must think that Kendra is a girl's name, but this Kendra was not a girl, surely not, he was a boy."

Well, having lunch with little Harry on his lap, had been easier than he had thought it would be. Harry had still been clinging to him for some time, but soon he had been able convincing the child that he not only needed both his hands for his lunch but that Harry also had to eat his lunch himself.

_"Don' have 'n."_ The Boy had mumbled at first and he had sighed.

_"You do have lunch."_ He had said. _"I have packed you a sandwich and some grapes, this morning, after breakfast, remember?"_

_"N't m'ne."_ The boy had still mumbled and this time he'd actually had some troubles understanding the little imp – but then, well, of course the boy would state something like that after he'd been startled to death, and out of his sleep, by his uncle this morning, at a place that should be his safe haven.

_"It is yours, Harry."_ He had said, frowning. _"I have packed it for you, and I expect you to eat it."_

Well, the boy had, unsurely at first, hesitantly at first, but he had – and upon being released finally, having to sit on his own and without being held – even if it had been still on his lap – little Harry had gotten a bit more confident with the minutes that had past and now he was laying on his mat, like he was expected to, and so the Potions Master knew that – he had achieved more than he had hoped for.

"Kendra had always been old." He continued reading, looking over at the bloody boy for a moment. "In fact, when he had been born, 176 years ago, he'd already had glasses and a long white beard which generally surprised his mother because she had a perfect eyesight and no facial hair whatsoever. His dad was called Kendra, the _extremely_ old adder, but he's not in this story. Now, every Wednesday morning Kendra would drive to the post office in Aberdeen to collect his pension money – which he actually got since his birth – but today was no ordinary Wednesday morning for two reasons – firstly, it was his birthday, and secondly – it was in fact Thursday. This meant that he was actually 177 years old. The only problem was – he didn't know it. You see, because he thought it was Wednesday he thought that his birthday was not until tomorrow!"

There were a few of the children chuckling at that silly thought, someone not knowing that it was their birthday – except of Harry, who wasn't, who most likely _didn't_ know when his birthday was, because he couldn't imagine that the Dursleys would celebrate the boy's birthday.

"Anyway, he parked the motorbike in the usual place – in front of the bakery opposite the police station." He read on, noticing that little Harry, who was paying close attention, looked over at him, startled for a moment at the mentioning of a motorbike and he inclined his head – yes, he knew that the boy surely must remember the motorbike Hagrid had used when taking the child from the destroyed house after the attack, after his parents had been murdered. "He turned on the radio and got off the motorbike. He never had the radio turned on when he was driving, because he hated pop music – he rather loved heavy metal. Indeed was the entire adder a rather strange adder. He was driving a chopper with a long wheel fork that was shimmering in the sunlight – only that there wasn't any sunlight that day. Actually, suddenly a very watery thing happened – it started to rain. And not just a few drops, but whole bucketfuls of water was pouring down. He ran to the bus shelter, but the bus shelter didn't have a roof, and so this didn't really help. Well – he'd forgotten to bring his umbrella and so his skin was getting soaked very quickly."

Again there were some children who already were asleep and he started noticing a pattern – namely Isabelle, Gabriella and Amelie falling asleep rather soon each time, actually after the very first sentences he had read, while Eliot, Warren and Gabriel took a bit longer but were mostly asleep within a few minutes – followed close behind by Andrew. David and Harry often seemed to partake in some kind of duel, even though he knew that in truth they didn't and that both boys just enjoyed being read to, Harry actually imagining that he, Snape, read for him only. Yes, he knew of the child's secret thoughts, even though he hadn't used legillimence on him.

"So he looked around and saw a big shop called Umbrella World, just next to Woolworths." He continued reading. "And when he ran into the shop, he couldn't believe how many umbrellas were in there. There surely were millions and billions of them, neatly lined up on shelves. The first one he looked at was made of fine silk with a golden handle, but this one was a bit too expensive for him. The next one was covered with bugs and spiders and other insects and he quickly put it back at the shelves. The third one he looked at was so very bright yellow that it hurt his eyes and so he put this one back too. Then there was one that was full of holes to let the rain through, which Kendra thought was a very silly idea. But then he saw a lovely green and blue one, the green areas covered with clouds and the blue areas covered with flowers. It cost just three pounds too and so he took out his purse and bought it."

Well, most trouble when it came to their nap, were clearly causing Mikey and Christine Creighton and after he had watched them this morning, both children being tired – just like yesterday – he thought he knew the reason. Yesterday they had come back from their holidays and he had thought that they were just still tired from a long journey, but they still had carried dark circles beneath their eyes this morning and so he knew – it surely couldn't be from that but because they didn't go to bed early in the night, most likely talking and making nonsense in the evening instead of sleeping.

During the day they first were tired in the early morning hours upon arriving at the pre-school, while with time they got awake – and then their tiredness changed into overdrive. A few good nights sleep and a regular bedtime surely would do both children good. But well, he had no way of changing that, he just had to deal with them being unable sleeping in the afternoons.

"When he went outside of the umbrella shop, Kendra found that it had stopped raining, which was a good thing and a bad thing. It was a good thing, because he didn't like rain to begin with, but it was a bad thing, because now he had bought the umbrella in vain – even though he liked it. After looking at his watch he decided that he was probably hungry, and so he crossed over the road to McDonalds. He bought a BigKing, but he threw the bread and the lettuce away into the bin because, being an adult adder, he of course only liked the burger meat, even though it was neither rat nor mouse. But surely a big adder like him would not eat lettuce or bread."

Well, the big eyes Harry was making at that, the boy nearly sitting up with horror at the adder throwing food away, he couldn't help huffing at the author. Surely a child like Harry, who didn't get enough food on a good day to last one meal would be upset at such a thing like any living being throwing away food and he actually could see the boy's wish to say something. He didn't call upon the boy however but continued reading, because right now was not the time for discussing the story or they wouldn't sleep at all, Mikey and Christine surely would take the opportunity very happily, anything in their eyes than having to sleep and David surely would step in soon too – the four of them surely waking the others quickly.

"After Kendra had visited the post office finally and had gotten his pension money, he went back to his motorbike and turned off the radio – remember, he was never turning on the radio while he was driving as he didn't like pop music." He went on reading, making a mental note to discuss the story after re-reading the part in the afternoon lesson for those who had fallen asleep in the midst. "He mounted his motorbike and then started the engine before driving home, as pushing the vehicle surely wouldn't have made much sense. On his way home he came by the petrol station and looking at his petrol meter he realized – he maybe should have a stop to fill his tank. The place however was crowded with cars and cars of all colours and he didn't want to wait so long – and so he didn't stop but drove past the petrol station. He drove a few meters more, but suddenly _another_ strange thing happened on this Wednesday morning that wasn't a Wednesday morning at all but a Thursday Morning – his motorbike sputtered, and stuttered, and then it stopped on the middle of the road, refusing to drive just one more inch, the motor dead."

Realizing that all the children had their eyes closed, even little Harry, Mikey and Christine, he closed the book, glad that this was over with. He hadn't thought that he would get little Harry to sleep today, not after this morning – and surely not after the boy had been all clingy, clinging to his neck like a leech. The only time he had not done so had been during lunch and while they'd been outside – and he knew perfectly well why Harry had not clung to his neck then, namely because he'd been scared of Dursley, Dudley Dursley. He surely had feared that maybe that boy would see him clinging to his teacher's neck, something he didn't want, and he, Snape, he was glad for that as surely he would have a hard time explaining his actions to Vernon Dursley.

He couldn't afford it yet, getting on the wrong side of that bloody man, never mind how much he would like wringing that man's neck. He knew that Dursley had too much of an influence on the authorities here in Little Whinging. He couldn't afford anything yet with that man before he had a clear and waterproof proof af the abuse the bloody bastard bestowed upon his nephew.

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"There was one … there were two … there were three shiny apples." The children were singing, clapping their hands and he inwardly groaned at the noise all this singing and clapping made, but well, he couldn't change it. Children in pre-school were meant to be singing silly songs, they were learning that way. For a fleeting moment he wondered how _he_ had been able learning without singing such silly songs, because he had never been to any pre-school, and luckily so, but well – he _had_ learned and he had a diploma hanging on the wall to his office at the Hogwarts dungeons after all – without having had to sing silly songs.

"There were four … there were five … there were six shiny apples." The children were singing but he noticed that Harry was not singing with them. The child was – again – leaning against him, clinging to the sleeves of his shirt as if they were a safety line, as if he had to physically hold him to just make sure he wouldn't go anywhere. "There were seven … there were eight … there were nine shiny apples. There were ten shiny apples in the tree."

"Now, what if I take one of these apples from the tree?" He asked and immediately there were ten hands going into the air.

"Harry?" He asked however the child that was in his arms again.

"D'no" Said boy murmured, hiding his face in the folds of his shirt.

"I am sure that you know the answer, Harry, you're an intelligent boy after all." He said, turning the boy in his lap so that he had to finally release him – in vain as little Harry was now sitting with his back leaning against his chest – yes, but his upper body turned in a strange angle anyway while the little fists were clinging to his sleeve and the little face hidden in the folds of his shirt. Merlin, what a great hiding place if he were wearing his cloak!

_'Merlin!' _He couldn't help thinking_. 'I can still feel every vertebra and every rib. This is still too extreme. He'll have to eat, and more than he is eating currently. If he doesn't, then he'll have to accept nutrient-replacement potions. Something. Anything.'_

"Come now, Harry." He finally said, taking the boy and sitting him on the floor in front of him, ignoring the little face pouting up at him in clear disappointment. "I am sure that you know the answer and I expect you to give it if you know it."

"'ts nine." Harry said and he smirked.

"That is correct, child." He reassured. "And if I now take another apple from the tree? Amelie?"

"Then you've only eight apples on your tree." The girl said.

"That's right. Now, If I take another apple from the tree, how many are up there then? Eliot?"

"Then there's only seven apples left." The boy answered, bouncing up and down and he frowned.

"Go to the toilet, Eliot." He said and immediately the boy shot up and ran out of the classroom, causing him to shake his head. "Now, what if I take another apple from the tree? Gabriel?"

"Then you'll get your stomach upset and it will hurt very badly." The boy answered and he couldn't help laughing.

Merlin! Him! Severus Snape! Laughing! That was impossible! He was Severus Snape, cold and tough Potions Master, dungeons bastard at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, bringer of tears to the first and second years, the one teacher that made the students trembling with fear – the one teacher that surely never laughed, absolutely never!

And yet, he was laughing at a silly declaration from a four year old toddler – even though the boy definitely did have a point. after eating four apples he surely would get an upset stomach.

Well, tonight he would have to partake in dinner with the Dursleys, never mind if he liked it or not, and most likely he would have to watch the boy being hungry while they were eating, because somehow he doubted that Dursley would regard his presence and he couldn't afford doing anything openly or he would lose Dursley's trust, would lose the privilege of having the boy on the weekends – or for the entire upcoming weekend.

Well, he would manage!

He was a spy and he had done worse while attending Death Eater meetings in the past, he had watched innocent witches and wizards being tortured brutally and for hours, for days, until death, he surely would manage watching one of his students being hungry, he didn't care about that bloody snots anyway and surely not about the clingy leech.

He would manage!

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**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_A visit at the Dursleys _…

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

591 - Gryffindor

536 - Slytherin

498 - Ravenclaw

274 - Hufflepuff


	18. dinner with the Dursleys

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

well, originally I've had planned on writing this one chapter - to get the story up in the list on my profile as the wrong place it was situated in the list - it drove me mad … however, upon all the reviews you've given - 107 reviews for just one single chapter, I couldn't bring myself to let you down now and so - well, you'll get a few chapters more on this story … it thwarts my plans completely and it throws me off line - but well, I felt that you deserve a few more chapters on this one …  
107 reviews - I so very much do thank you for all of your reviews, they are very much appreciated and I only can hope for your understanding in not answering to them like I normally do - they're just too much and I'd be at work for the remainder of the day - and it is quite early in the day … thanks to all of you …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs - whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_Well, tonight he would have to partake in dinner with the Dursleys, never mind if he liked it or not, and most likely he would have to watch the boy being hungry while they were eating, because somehow he doubted that Dursley would take regard to his presence and he couldn't afford doing anything openly or he would lose Dursley's trust, would lose the privilege of having the boy on the weekends - or for the entire upcoming weekend. _

_Well, he would manage!_

_He was a spy and he had done worse while attending Death Eater meetings in the past, he had watched innocent witches and wizards being tortured until death, he surely would manage watching one of his students being hungry. _

_He would manage!_

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter eighteen**

**Dinner with the Dursleys**

He would be a very happy man if it would be snowing - or if it at least would be raining cats and dogs. But no - it was August after all, even if it was the end of August, and so - no, the chance for snow right now was rather small. So - he would be satisfied with just simple rain, with a lot of rain, or with at least enough rain so that the Dursleys couldn't use their barbeque equipment.

But well - it was past tea-time and - the sun was out - still.

Taking a deep breath he mentally and morally prepared for a difficult evening, knowing that he couldn't do a thing, never mind how the evening would work out. For a moment he wondered if he should take his wand with him to number four, knowing that maybe he might need it - but then he decided against it. He was capable of doing wandless magic to some degree and he was sure that it would be enough when it came to a fat whale of a muggle. He'd kept his wand in his bedroom-drawer since he arrived here in the muggle area, not wanting to startle the little snots that were his students now with carrying a wand with him, knowing that the little titbits of magic he _might _need to do at pre-school, he could easily do them without his wand.

Not to mention - _should _Dursley find his wand, whatever reason for, then he had gambled away all his chances of helping Harry in all future. He would not risk this, he wouldn't gamble with the child's safety and health any more than he already had to.

Well, Miss Harvest knew of Harry being abused with the Dursleys and she would do something, he knew Elsa Harvest from earlier cases of child abuse when it came to his Slytherins. Miss Davenport knew about it too and Howell had promised he would gather some information on investigation concerning the police office here in Little Whinging. So, for once, he was not alone, even though the situation was as difficult - and as dangerous - as it was with some of his Slytherins.

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"Severus!" Dursley beamed over at him the moment he crossed the road and approached number four - and he had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the idiot man.

"Vernon." He greeted back, forcing himself to _not _glare at the muggle in annoyance, narrowing his eyes at the person sitting at the bench opposite Vernon instead. He hadn't been aware that there would be others than him - and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, wasn't sure if it would complicate things for Harry or if it would maybe make things easier.

"That's Severus, Oktay, from number seven." Dursley said, beaming - a thing that made Severus' stomach twist in disgust. "And that's Oktay, Severus, my next door neighbour from number two."

"Oktay Erkan Tyüen." The man said while standing, extending his hand for greeting and he arched his eyebrow. He would have bet his arse that Dursley would never invite any none-english person into his garden.

"Severus Snape." He answered, taking the hand before sitting down beside him, not ready to take his place beside Dursley, but luckily the whale didn't mind.

"That's the professor I've told you 'bout, Oktay, and for the year he's a pre-school teacher here at St. Catherine." Dursley said, clearly trying to show off and he forced himself to not roll his eyes at the idiot.

"I've heard from you, Professor Snape." Oktay nodded his head. "From Benjamin Arlington."

"I see." He answered, inclining his head. So, Tyüen was a friend of Arlington - and he was sure about that, because otherwise Arlington surely wouldn't have told the other man about him - and what had happened at pre-school, what he apparently had. Yes, Little Whinging was a small one-horse-town only.

"Arlington." Dursley said and he frowned - surely Dursley had not heard of Arlington taking his son from his wife. "Isn't he the one whose wife had an accident and is now in hospital? Good riddance of her, the poor boy, being beaten and all!"

He nearly growled in anger at the bastard at that. What was it he was doing to his nephew, for Merlin's sake?

"Honestly, who'd beat such a small and intelligent child?" Dursley called out at Tyüen's frown - a frown that had him narrowing his eyes at the Turk. Did the man know something? Stupid question - Tyüen was a next door neighbour to Dursley, he was sure that he knew something.

"I don't think that the Arlington's would be too pleased about us speculating." Tyüen said and he couldn't help agreeing.

"Sure, but that poor boy!" Dursley barked and there wasn't anything else he wished at that moment than introducing his fist to the man's face. "Arlington should go to Stabler and then the problem would be solved. I could put in a good word for him too, I know Stabler well, after all. Arlington would have sole custody over the boy then within the day."

"Severus, how good of you to visit for dinner." Petunia said, smiling happily, but he could see the nervousness laying beneath.

"Petunia." He answered, getting off his place and greeting the woman back.

"Tell me that this is your delicious noodle salad, Petunia." Tyüen smiled, sniffing into the direction of the large bowl Petunia had placed at the table, his smile widening and for once Petunia's smile got real, not the fake smile that didn't reach her eyes, but a real smile before she went back into the house.

"Yes, my wife creates the best noodle salad of all Privet Drive!" Vernon beamed and for a moment he wondered - Petunia? Or Harry? And no, he didn't put it past Dursley to have Harry doing a lot of the cooking.

"Baba!" A small girl came running around the corner, maybe four or five years old. Long black hair, dark eyes, yes - it surely had to be Tyüen's daughter.

"What is it, Fatma Sebil?" The man asked, turning towards the girl and taking her on his lap.

"Dudley pushed me." The girl sobbed, reaching out her hand to her father and he frowned. Of course the Dursley boy would do such a thing, pushing a girl. That boy neither had manners nor did he know sociality in any other way, form or kind.

"I'm sure my Dudders didn't mean anything with it." Dursley said, clearly waving it off, and he could see Tyüen seething inwardly while taking the girl's hand and cleaning her palm with a clean handkerchief. "He's a boy and boys are supposed to be rough, you wait until you have a son, Oktay."

Well, for some reason this particular comment seemed to make Tyüen just the more angry, but he didn't say anything to it. Instead he whispered something into his daughter's ear while he pulled out a box with cookies and gave one to the girl that started nibbling on it, leaning against her father.

"Yes, I'm sure that your son didn't mean it." Tyüen said and he could hear the anger in the man's voice, even though he had it under tight control. "They are children after all."

"That they are!" Dursley beamed at the man. "I'm sure that aunty Petunia has a nice pice of cake for you, girlie, you wanna have one now?"

Well, for a moment he didn't know if he should laugh out loud or if he should be in shock at the man's behaviour, but he just took a deep breath.

"No, thank you, sir." The girl answered, not leaving her father's lap.

"_I_ wanna have a piece of cake!" Came Dursley Junior's voice and he watched the boy coming around the corner

"There is my Dudders!" Dursley exclaimed happily. "Say hello to Mr. Snape, Dudders, and then you go to your mother for a pice of her fine cake."

Alright - the first dangerous situation of the evening - Dudley Dursley facing him, after he had taken the boy on the scuff of his neck a few days earlier. He had two choices right now. He either could sit back and watch what the boy would do, or he could take matters in his hand and try to prevent the worst - he was a Slytherin after all and so -

"Mr. Dursley." He said, extending his hand towards the young boy while fixing him with his dark eyes. "Good evening."

He had to wait for a few seconds while the boy looked at him with wide eyes, clearly ready to run.  
"You hear that, Dudders?" Dursley beamed at his son, stupidly. "_Mr. Dursley _your teacher calls you, like the big boy you are."

_'Big boy - my arse!'_ He huffed, inwardly. Even his four-year old students knew that they were in trouble if he called them by their family names.

"'Llo, Mr. Snape." Dursley Junior said, taking his hand like he was used doing from pre-school and he took a relieved breath. He knew that the boy wouldn't say anything now.

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He watched the newcomer in their neighbourhood closely.

He could see the barely concealed anger radiating off the dark man, the cool gaze he threw at Dursley's offspring and the angrily narrowed eyes when his daughter had told him that the Dursley boy had shoved her. He also had noticed that Snape had thrown a worried glance into the direction of Fatma's hand when he'd cleaned it, but it had looked worse than it's been.

All in all - yes, he could see how this man had cared for David and had then told Richard to take the boy while his mother was in hospital. He didn't understand Richard, really. His wife had so long spoken of a therapy, but she'd never done anything - except of hurting her son. Richard should have long ago taken matters into his hands. But well, he had no right of interfering.

And well, he didn't understand Petunia either. She should have taken her nephew and she should have left Dursley and his obese son long ago. But no! She allowed Dursley to not only hurt her, but her nephew too.

He'd only had Aysel for a year, she'd died when Fatma was born - what had made his anger at Dursley just the worse for his comment about having a boy. He had no desire of taking another wife and so, no, he surely would not have a son at any time. However, he'd only had Aysel for a year, but he'd never hurt her, nor had he ever hurt Fatma - and he never would.

And so he couldn't understand that this man did hurt his wife and his nephew the way he did.

Of course he knew that there wasn't anything he could do against it - Dursley was well-known in Little Whinging and no one could do anything as they would have to go through the police and the town council first, what was impossible. But well, he couldn't understand anyway. Sometimes, when the boy was outside and close to the fence that separated his and Dursley's grounds - then he secretly put a piece of bread or a cookie in the boy's trousers while pretending to give him a slap on his backside.  
That's something he couldn't keep himself from blaming Petunia for. Never mind her fears of her husband - surely she would find a way to feed the boy a bit better than she actually did. On the other hand - Dursley would know that something was amiss if the boy suddenly gained weight - even though, the boy _had _gained weight. The past few months had been worse than all the years before and he knew that the boy had been dangerously thin - he was thin still, too thin, way too thin, but not so dam dangerously thin anymore, and he had gotten a bit of a colour, he wasn't so pale anymore. So - what had happened?

He'd seen the boy going over to Snape last weekend - had the man fed the boy? Had he given him a much needed break and allowed him to rest? That was his only explanation. What was the boy doing over there anyway?

He watched Dursley turning on the grill, wondering why the man was so damn proud of an electric grill. He was making a ruckus over that bloody thing like an American over his charcoal fireplace in the garden.

"So, your daughter is in Miss Weldon's class, Mr. Tyüen?" Snape asked and he looked back at the black clad man.

"Oktay Erkan." He replied, not really sure why in Merlin's name he allowed this man to use his given name. He'd been very angry when Dursley had done that for the first time, not to mention that he still was angry whenever the man called him with only his first given name. He had two and he expected people to use them. "And yes, Fatma Sebil is together with Dudley in Miss Weldon's class, regretfully."

"How so, Oktay Erkan?" Snape asked. "And Severus will do."

"I'm sure that you have noticed meanwhile - Fatma Sebil is a Turkish girl. even though she is born here in England and has both citizenships." He answered.

"Of course I have." Snape - Severus - answered. Not a name you heard all day and he wondered - was that man a Briton? He was sure that the name Severus might be latin for severe or stern, so maybe he - or his ancestors - could be from Italy maybe? "So, you mean that Miss Weldon gives Fatma Sebil a hard time because her parents are from a different country?"

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Well, the huff he received from the man was enough to know - yes - and honestly, he should have known.

"Yes, that is like that woman." He answered while watching Dursley with the Barbeque. "She is picking her students by hand - sadly all the others have to suffer."

"You have overtaken the Raccoons, and so you have Harry in your class, haven't you?" The other man asked, his eyes narrowed at Dursley and his voice lowered a bit even though he was sure that Dursley didn't listen, that man was too much preoccupied with the steaks he'd put on the grill.

"Yes, I have." He answered while smelling freshly baked bread. "I am however sure that you understand - I cannot give away information about my students."

"Of course not." Tyüen answered and he frowned at the knowing smile that seemed to play on the man's face. "I would have wondered if you had. I just wanted to make sure."

"What a sneaky move." He nearly laughed while his gaze went towards the door where Petunia left the house with a basket filled with plates and cutlery. "I'll do that, Petunia." He said, getting up from the bench and taking the basket.

"Oh no, Severus, that's not …" Petunia started but he waved her off.

"Why don't you care for the rest." He said, started laying the table with Tyüen's help while watching the woman going back to the house, looking clearly tiredly.

"Hmm, if you live in a foreign country and with neighbours that have more than one face - then you have to learn being sneaky." Tyüen said and he looked back at the man, sharply. More than one face - indeed.

"I see." Was all he said while he wondered - how much did Tyüen know? And how did he act in this - multi-face situation. Did the man play an as dangerous game as did he with the Dursleys? He would have to have an eye on the man - and maybe a word with him one day. The more alleys they had, the better - and if Tyüen was on their side, then they clearly had a first hand witness.

"He's taken Dudley on his shirt." He heard the girl whispering into her father's ears and for a moment he nearly chuckled before he scowled down at the bloody toddler - because that she was, just like Potter and all the others were - toddlers.

"You better don't say that when Mr. Dursley is around, Fatma Sebil." He just as softly said, nearly whispered, giving the girl a pointed look. "Or it will be Harry who will be in trouble."

The girl nodded quickly, her dark eyes large for a moment. She surely had not thought that he would hear her, but well, he was the bloody dungeons bat, and he heard everything. His eyes on the girl's father he again noticed - a knowing smile and his scowl deepened. Bloody people! Couldn't they just leave him alone?

"Howd'you like your steak, Severus?" Dursley asked and he turned towards the man standing in the midst of his garden, looking at him expectantly.

"Well-done, please." He answered. "I'd like my steak on my plate, not running after the bloody thing because it's alive still."

"Running after it!" Dursley boomed, laughing, as if he'd said something funny - just like last time he'd been there for tea last Saturday. "You know, Severus, you're the most funny man I've ever met, running after a steak, really!"

Sighing he forced himself to stay calm and to not snap at the man, reminding himself to keep his sarcasm to himself in future while being with the Dursleys. He hated stupidity, and Dursley, taking his sarcasm for some kind of jokes, that _was _stupidity indeed.

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Well, dinner was prepared, as it seemed. The bread was on the table, different bowls with salad were there too, they had their steaks on the plates and Vernon had a bottle of beer in front of him. Tyüen and he himself both had water, like the children. Well, like Fatma Sebil at least as Dursley Junior was allowed drinking a coke, something that had him shaking his head inwardly.

Tyüen had reached a box with two steaks to Dursley, explaining that it was beef as neither his daughter nor he would eat pork. Dursley had wrinkled his nose at that bit of information, but he hadn't said anything to it and he wondered - why. Why had Dursley kept his bloody mouth shut - was he scared that he would lose his neighbour's _'friendship'_ if he said something? Or was he afraid that people could see him as a rassist? What was the reason as to why Dursley hadn't said anything even if he had been clearly displeased about his guests bringing their own food - or better question - what was Dursley's weak point?

Frowning he noticed Harry coming out of the house, carrying a bottle with water in both his hands. The boy placed it at the table before turning and going back to the house, slowly, not looking at anyone - and surely not at him, Snape. Well, he should have known. He had prepared the boy for the evening, but he knew how hard this surely had to be for the child.

**Flashback**

_"Harry?" He softly asked when the other children had left the classroom and the boy looked up from the floor where he was sitting to tie his shoes, his movements slow and awkward. "I need you to know that your uncle has invited me over for dinner tonight." He said. _

_Harry only nodded at him, accepting his declaration. _

_"It will be like last time, I won't tell the Dursleys anything that happens here at school and you will have to be careful to not say anything either, alright?"_

_Again, Harry only nodded at him, again accepting his statement, just with the exception that this time the boy sighed a suffering sigh - and for once he could understand._

_"By tomorrow morning, when you come here again, you will be able to be just Harry, to be just a child, and I will take care of you, but until then, while you are at home, with your aunt and uncle, you will have to pretend, alright?"_

_"Know." Harry said, for the first time looking up at him, the green eyes being large and pleading, as if he asked him to - to take him away, to keep him here at school, to do anything that would make his life less painful. "Me hate it."_

_"I know that you do, Harry." He answered, going down on one knee beside the boy and placing his fingertips beneath the small chin, keeping the child looking at him. "I hate it too, but for now there is no other way. It is a dangerous game we have to play, but for now I see no other way. You will have to be very careful. Whatever happens, do not disobey."_

**End flashback**

"Would you _please _sit down, Potter." He growled, trying to sound annoyed and not having any trouble pretending because - he _was _annoyed. He was however not annoyed with the child but with the child's bloody caretakers. "And start dinner like anyone else after your aunt and uncle have prepared food. Take some of that salad your aunt has made, Potter - I surely won't watch you skipping meals! You know the ritual from school after all - so_ sit down _finally!"

Surely he wouldn't suggest the boy to eat from the steaks, not only knowing that most likely the boy wouldn't be able to stomach it, but also knowing that Dursley would explode later on if he told the child to take some of the steaks the man had paid for and had then put on the grill with his _'own hand's work'_ - well, he knew that Harry wouldn't get into too much trouble with Petunia. Watching Dursley out of the corner of his eyes he noticed with some satisfaction that Dursley didn't seem angry but rather smug, satisfied himself apparently at his - _Snape's_ - apparent anger.

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For a moment he was so startled - and so scared - he didn't know what to do and startled he looked up at Mr. Snape, for a moment even feeling betrayed because he had hoped that he would be able going through the evening without being noticed - but now … now uncle Vernon would be so angry at him, not only for making his guest angry, but because he had eaten something too, and at their table no less!

But then he noticed the pointed look, a pointed look from those dark, dark, _dark _eyes and they were so calming, like always. And Mr. Snape did not say things like "sweetums" or "duddikins" or something like that, nor did he use such a kind of voice like aunt Petunia used when speaking with Dudley - no, Mr. Snape used his no-nonsense voice like always and told him what to do in clear terms - and so he did. Still scared somehow, still unsure about what might happen later in the evening, but then he noticed the smirk on uncle Vernon's face and he knew, nothing would happen - or at least he _hoped _that nothing would happen. One never knew with uncle Vernon after all. But apparently Mr. Snape had known. And Mr. Tyüen too did look at him, prompting him to sit down there and take something to eat.

Somehow he couldn't help smiling for a moment at the sight of Mr. Tyüen and Mr. Snape, both persons he liked. He sure wasn't sure about Mr. Tyüen, because he always seemed so strange and so friends with uncle Vernon - but Mr. Snape too seemed to be friends with uncle Vernon. But this being friends was just played being friends. So, was Mr. Tyüen being friends with uncle Vernon a game too? That would explain why the man never hit his behind for real but only as if he'd put some dirt away, and why he always found something to eat in his trousers after that.

Sighing he tried to savor the noodle salad he'd helped aunt Petunia making earlier, knowing that surely he wouldn't be allowed this one often, but he only managed after some time, after looking over at Mr. Snape. He definitely liked the man and he even wished his teacher were there with the Dursleys more often, even though he'd surely suffer the prize later, when Mr. Snape was gone.

Just those moments when the man was there, they seemed to give him a sense of safety that seemed to linger, that seemed to give him strength, that seemed to fill something inside.

What Harry Potter didn't know was that - that was what Severus Snape was doing, sending some of his magical energy over to the child, not much, as he couldn't sent much, not knowing how to do such a thing without physical touch, but at least a bit he was able to send over. And what Harry Potter - nor Severus Snape - didn't know either was that this gentle and soft strands of magic started intermingling with the strands of magic that ran through the child's core, starting to bond with each other just before sending out the same to the older wizard. Not magical energy as surely the child would need all energy he could get - no, Harry Potter's magical core was sending out the need for the bond, the need for care, the need for someone …

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He wasn't sure what was going on, but something was strange. He could feel it! He could sense it! Something was happening here and now, in the eve of the day and in the Dursleys' garden of all places.

Little Harry, who had been very nervous and scared when Snape had suggested he sit down and eat - something he surely wouldn't have suggested to the child, the nerve of Snape, really, but it _had_ worked, Dursley was not seething. However, little Harry who had been very nervous and scared at first got calmer and calmer with the minute, he could watch the change in the child, he could _feel _the change in the child, a calmness settling in the small form and some kind of peace. He boy took a deep breath and then there even appeared a small smile on the pale face, a small smile he was sure Dursley didn't notice, it was too small for that but - so happy anyway.

And at the same time there was a change in Snape too, ne noticed.

Snape seemed to be a strange man. Cold and harsh - and yet, he seemed to care or he wouldn't have cared about what happened with Benjamin and his son, but he had and Benjamin already had asked for temporary sole custody over David. He seemed to like dark colours and his sarcasm was great, a kind of humor he liked. He however wasn't able to make head nor tail of the sentence Snape had said to little Harry.

_"Would you please sit down, Potter and start dinner like anyone else after your aunt and uncle have prepared food. Take some of that salad your aunt has made, Potter - I surely won't watch you skipping meals! You know the ritual from school after all - so sit down finally!"_

On one hand, it was a dangerous thing to suggest in the first place, knowing that Dursley wouldn't approve and most likely have the child paying later - while yet, Dursley apparently was alright with it. On the other hand, it had sounded rather cold and harsh, cruel, as if Snape had been very annoyed with little Harry - while yet, the man's eyes had belied his words and his harsh tone too. Whatever it was - it seemed to be rather - what had Snape said earlier - sneaky - of the man.

However, Snape seemed a rather harsh and cold man, uncaring to the eye, dark and - evil, a bad man, a man that didn't care about anything. He hadn't seen the man smiling all evening nor had he seen anything else than a scowl on the pale face, as if his facial muscles weren't made for a smile or anything else than a scowl. And yet - he could see the man … no, that was wrong … he could _feel _the edges the man seemed to have soften, he could feel the coldness warming up a bit and he could sense -

He nearly gasped when he sensed that there was a bond forming before his eyes, a bond between that man and the child!

How was something like that possible? How coud something happen? What exactly was it that was happening anyway?

He didn't understand it!

But then - was there need to understand? It wasn't a bad thing, he could feel it. It was a good thing - so, why should he understand it? It was - and that was all that mattered.

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"I expect you to go to bed early, Potter!" He growled at the boy. "I don't approve of tired students in the morning just because they dawdle away time before bed." There were large green eyes for a moment, but then there was nearly a smile - nearly. Bloody five year old children acting like adults and knowing to not smile in front of their uncles! Saying good night to Petunia and Dursley he turned and then left the Dursleys' property, walking over to his own home, to his temporary home, because he was sure that soon, he would leave. He would take the child and leave with Harry, would take him to Hogwarts and there he would raise him.

He'd be able homeschooling him until he was six or seven, and then he'd have him attending primary school in Hogsmeade - one of the few wizarding primary schools within the wizarding world, as most wizards preferred teaching their children in private until they had to attend secondary school. There even were some wizards who didn't give their children to any school at all but had them homeschooled until graduation - a rather stupid thing in his opinion, because barely any parent went through with all that had to be taught and barely any adult went through with schedules at all. They soon slacked and in the end the children's education was - rather poor.

Opening his door and entering number seven he took a deep breath.

Soon.

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_Another day - just like any other normal day _…

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

621 - Gryffindor

574 - Slytherin

504 - Ravenclaw

295 - Hufflepuff


	19. a weekend to be remembered

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs - whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_He'd be able homeschooling him until he was six or seven, and then he'd have him attending primary school in Hogsmeade - one of the few wizarding primary schools within the wizarding world, as most wizards preferred teaching their children in private until they had to attend secondary school. There even were some wizards who didn't give their children to any school at all but had them homeschooled until graduation - a rather stupid thing in his opinion, because barely any parent went through with all that had to be taught and barely any adult went through with schedules at all. They soon slacked and in the end the children's education was - rather poor. _

_Opening his door and entering number seven he took a deep breath. _

_Soon._

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter nineteen**

**A weekend to be remembered**

He'd had a close look at little Harry the next day, taking extra care of the boy's health, and he even had run a short diagnostic, just to make sure that the child was alright after the dinner with the Dursleys the evening before. But he'd found nothing new, no new bruises and nothing else new either - and the boy had looked more rested than ever before in the mornings. Not really well and healthily rested, but at least more rested than he normally did.

For a moment he huffed, Little Harry - indeed!

What had this bloody little imp done to him so that he resorted to a silly naming like - _Little Harry!_ Bloody impertinent brat!

Looking over at the boy that was sitting at the floor in front of the benches, slowly and with awkward movements putting on his shoes, he sighed. Just because there hadn't been any new bruises and other marks on the boy on Tuesday morning, it didn't mean that there hadn't been new injuries on Wednesday or on Thursday - or today. He'd found them each morning, like nearly always since he'd come to Little Whinging. This morning it had been the boy's fingers being crushed and from the looks of it, the boy had gotten his fingers between a door frame and a door. He'd made sure that they hadn't been broken and he'd applied a balm that would at least take the pain away, that would numb the nerves and that would keep the fingers from getting worse, but he knew that he couldn't heal them completely without Dursley getting suspicious.

"There is no need for haste, Harry." He said, approaching the bloody toddler after the last of the other children had left for their respective homes and he knelt before the child, tying the boy's shoes. "I will take you with me right now as your aunt and uncle have already left. Your cousin has already been freed from school today as your uncle has brought him to his sister this morning."

There was only a nod from the boy, not even a small smile at the prospect of a free weekend away from his relatives and he wondered what that bloody idiot man of a Dursley had threatened the boy with.

Well, he would take Little Harry home and he would give him something to eat before sending him to bed early today. And tomorrow, well, they would see what they could do then. He would like to take the boy to a playground, but he knew that one wrong word of the boy could be dangerous if he accidentally told something of it to his family next week. And even though he knew that the child rarely spoke with his family at all, only if he absolutely had to, and even though he knew that he surely wouldn't talk with them about anything private, he knew that any child might let loose something accidentally. And Harry was just that, a child.

Taking the jacket he'd brought for Harry a few days earlier from the hook - even though the boy only could use it during his breaks at pre-school as the Dursleys surely would kill him if he came home, wearing a jacket - he held it for the boy to slip into the sleeves and then he took the boy's backpack before he ushered the child out of the room. He could feel the despair washing over the small form the moment they left the classroom and he knew that - again, just like last time he'd had the boy over last weekend for a few hours - the child expected anything but a calm and peaceful weekend.

But well, Harry would see. He would get dinner and then he'd be able laying down and sleeping, and he was sure that the boy would welcome a bed, contrary to other children that would fight bedtime more than once each night. And tomorrow he'd work on the boy's speaking abilities again. And maybe he could ask Lucius over with Draco - but then, no, better not.

Of course he knew that neither Lucius nor Draco would harm Harry - but he knew, if one of the two used any kind of magic, intentionally or accidentally, then they only would startle Harry, then they only would frighten Harry out of his wits. He would have to prepare Lucius and Draco for such a meeting - as well as he would have to prepare Harry for such a meeting, something he wasn't really looking forwards to while he at the same time knew that it was necessary, because if he wanted to take Harry as his son, then -

Frowning he held his breath for a moment.

If he wanted to take Harry as his son?

Where in Merlin's name had this thought come from?

Well, yes - of course he knew that he had been planning on taking Harry with him to Hogwarts and to raise him - but as his son? Was he really ready to - but then, yes.

If he was honest with himself, then yes, he was not only ready to do that, to adopt Lily's son, but e had to admit that somewhere deep within himself he had felt that this was what he had to do since some time now.

And if he would do that, then the child would have to get used to magic, then he would have to introduce him to the Malfoys and to other wizarding families. He would not allow the boy to become a squib just because of those bloody relatives of him.

"Let's go home, Harry." He softly said the moment they reached the car and he opened the passenger's door for the child to get into the car - but still, there was nothing in the boy's eyes than wariness and caution, fear, and he knew, he would have a hard time showing Harry that life could be worth living.

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The doorbell ringing through the house loudly had him cursing silently while he hurried along the corridor, hoping that the noise had not woken the boy. It hadn't been difficult getting the boy to bed, and surely it hadn't been difficult getting the boy to sleep either - and there even had been a small smile on the pale face when he'd tucked him in, but he knew that a child like Harry, a child that was used to cruelly and little sleep, would be awake upon the smallest noise, most likely fearing what would come now, what pain he had to await next, and with a scowl on his face he opened the door before the visitor - whoever it was - could press the doorbell a second time.

Well, he'd expected Vernon or Petunia being home early, maybe even Dumbledore being in the mood of using muggle ways of visiting him, most likely thinking that it was a big joke using a muggle doorbell for once in his bloody old life. He even could have imagined Arabella visiting him, seeing that the woman was living near to watch over Harry - what had him preparing for a good tongue-lashing however, as he had never ever seen the bloody woman having an eye on little Harry. She had quite a reputation as a cat loving, old and senile woman, but apparently those bloody cats were more important to Arabella than the boy whom she was entrusted with - a little fact that made him rather angry.

But well, surely he had not thought that he would get a visitor in one of his other neighbours.

"Good evening, Severus." Tyüen said, sounding rather worried and he narrowed his eyes at the man. "I apologize for the late disturbance, but I'm rather worried about Harry, the boy from number four. You have him in your class."

"I know who Harry is." He said, impatiently, not knowing how safe it was to reveal more than necessary right now, not knowing where the man stood - even if Tyüen had said that he was worried over the boy.

There was a moment of confusion on the dark face of his visitor, but then Tyüen seemed to give himself a kick.

"Fatma Sebil told me that Dudley wasn't at school today and I haven't seen the Dursleys all day long, nor in the evening." The man said and he nodded, knowing Tyüen's thoughts already. "I don't know where they left Harry, but he's not with Figg this time, I have checked - and it wouldn't be the first time that they left the child in that damn cupboard for a few days without food. You're his teacher, I'm sure that you could do more than I without making the situation worse than it already is, seeing how much influence Dursley has on the officials."

"What would make you thinking that I'd do anything about the boy's situation to begin with, Oktay Erkan?" He asked, carefully. "As you said, Dursley has a lot of influence after all and it is not my business what happens to the boy."

"Because you care, even though you hide it well." The bloody man said. "But well, either you do something or I'll go and enter the Dursleys' house. That boy is unhealthy thin already and a few days without food might finally kill him. I won't stand by and watch any longer. I have quite enough!"

"I suggest you lower your voice and come in before you do something irresponsible that not only would get _you_ into trouble but _Harry_ too - and while _you_ would survive it, I _won't_ guarantee the same for the boy." He drawled, stepping aside to let the man in before he grabbed Tyüen's shirt, leaning close and hissing into the man's ear so that no one, not even Harry, should he stand near, could hear him. "Know however that, if you tell anyone in the wrong place what you have seen here, I will have no other chance than killing you to ensure Harry's safety, and believe me, I'd be able to."

There was a moment of shock, a moment of silence, but then the other inclined his head.

"I know." Tyüen said, just as softly, his dark eyes as hard as were his, Snape's.

Releasing the man he led him upstairs and towards his guest room he'd given Harry, his fingers touching the wand he'd hidden in his sleeve - just in case.

Well, he'd changed the rather cold and simple guest room into a nursery, the walls he had colored in blue and green so that they would match the blanket and the pillow he had duplicated for the room so that the boy wouldn't have to take them from St. Catherine each time he was here - in hopes that it would happen rather often. He'd put a comfortable bed into the room, a shelf with toys and children's books, a soft blue and green carpet and a children's desk with a matching armchair in front of it. The window was situated to the south so that Harry didn't have to look at his relative's house but had a bit of peace from them visibly too, blue curtains matching the other colors in the room.

Opening the ajar door he inwardly sighed when finding Harry sitting at the bed, stiff and upright, bright awake and with large eyes watching the door, and he nearly could hear the small whimper that escaped the boy's throat the moment the door opened, most likely Harry fearing that his relatives might have come to get him early.

"There is no need of being scared, Mr. Potter." He softly but seriously said, knowing that his collected no-nonsense voice would get the boy back to normal much quicker than if he made a lot of _'doh-doh'_ and _'dah-dah'_ - what he never did anyways - and stepping into the room he allowed Tyüen to look too. "It is only Mr. Tyüen who came to investigate your well-being as he was worried over your stay for the weekend. Now, will you be able to go back to sleep, or would you like having a glass or warm milk that would help you in going back to sleep?"

Well, of course there was no answer to that and knowing that the boy would not be able going back to sleep right now, but wouldn't ask for a glass of something _'expensive'_ as warm milk, he ushered him up, out of the room, down the stairs and into the living room that was across from the kitchen where he went to, to prepare a glass of warm milk, one eye and ear on the living room where Tyüen had taken a seat too, apparently waiting for an explanation.

Not ready to reveal his magical abilities he heated the milk in a pot on the oven, what took him longer than it would with a simple warming charm, but well, he was in no haste after all.

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"I am sure you realize - if the Dursleys learn about this, then they won't allow Harry over ever again." He softly said after Harry had fallen asleep on him, his head laying on his lap while he carded his fingers through the unruly mop of black hair. He'd taken his seat beside the boy on the sofa and after a while, when he had noticed that the boy was tired and ready to close his eyes again, he had pulled the boy over so that the slender figure had been leaning against him - and even though there had been large green eyes staring at him startled at first, the brat had fallen asleep on him not long after. And not for the first time either, but it had been the first time that he had allowed the boy sleeping on while using him as a pillow.

The first time had been back at St. Catherine when he'd taken a look at the boy's injuries for the first time, in the rest room beside his classroom. He'd held the boy while Miss Davenport had pulled down his Jeans so that he could have a closer look on the just as bruised legs while the boy had been laying in his arms, sobbing and crying with fear and with shame too, but he'd fallen asleep on him when he'd covered the boy with a blanket, carding his fingers through the mop of black hair, just like he'd done today.

"I know the dangerous line you're walking, Severus." Tyüen softly answered, his dark eyes hard but determined.

"How did you know that you could address me with the Dursleys leaving the boy alone in the cupboard?" He then asked, narrowing his eyes at the other man. "I'm sure you knew the risks. If I really had been friends with Dursley, then you would have endangered Harry."

"Indeed." Tyüen huffed at him, but then the dark eyes got distant and there appeared crinkles all over the dark face, crinkles of concentration and confusion. "When you last visited the Dursleys, Monday evening, for dinner, I have felt something between this boy and you. I didn't understand it, but I know that there was something that couldn't be explained with words - like a bond that had been forming. You are a riddle." The man then said and he lifted his eyebrow, causing Tyüen to chuckle lightly. "You know, you're walking a dangerous line with Dursley, but you seem able balancing on this line without struggling. The moment you told me that you were ready to kill to keep the boy's and your secret safe, I believed you, because I can feel that you _are_ indeed ready. I won't even ask why that is so, because I think that there are some things that are not my business, but I know that you are a strange man, someone who seemed to belong into a different world. I cannot explain it otherwise, I don't even know if I make any sense to you, but I think that isn't important either. I just know that you won't harm Harry."

"You just know." He huffed. "What a dangerous basis to act upon. You are lucky however for being correct with your - _just knowing_. Because I indeed won't harm Harry. In fact, I am planning on adopting the boy as my son. But you should be more careful with whom you - _just know things_, because you could be very much mistaken and sometimes things are not what they appear."

"Well, Professor Snape, then tell me - why did you allow me in, instead of leaving me running into trouble by breaking into Dursleys' house?" Tyüen asked, his dark eyes hard for a moment. "You just as well could have let me ending up in jail, but you didn't - why? You couldn't know that I mean it serious either."

"Several reasons." He slowly said, looking down at the boy before he looked back at the man. "If you allow me to bring Harry back to his bed, then I will explain my actions to you."

Gathering the boy into his arms he got off the sofa, went upstairs and into the boy's room, all the while wondering if he should really do what he had on his mind.

There was a law he was about to break, because no muggle was to know about the wizarding world - while at the same time he knew - if that man was to help, then he should be able to trust him and he only would be able to trust him if he didn't lie to him. It was as easy as this - and honestly, he'd never been a man who'd cared much about laws in the first place. not to mention that - he still had his wand up his sleeve and the moment he sensed Tyüen doing something foolish, he always could use a confundus charm or even a memory charm to change the man's memories later.

He covered the boy with the blanket, making sure that he really slept, smirking at the knowledge that for once the boy was sleeping peaceful - and he hadn't even used a dreamless sleep potion. But then he sighed, knowing that this could change soon.

Casting one last glance at the child in the bed he turned to leave the room, went down the stairs and back into the living room, already preparing for the room being empty and Tyüen being gone, gone to do something stupid, like telling the Dursleys about his intentions concerning Harry - but then, no. He knew that the man wouldn't do that, he knew that Tyüen was honestly concerned, he not only could feel it, but he also had seen it - he was no fool after all and if he was about to lay out his cards, then he at least made sure beforehand that those cards would be in safe hands.

"You are the one that had put cookies or similar food into Harry's back pocket on his Jeans every now and then, knowing that with the baggy and too large Jeans it wouldn't be noticed, playing the bad man while apparently hitting the boy's behind - while in truth you have brushed over the trousers only to get the food into the boy's pockets without being noticed." He said, leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"You couldn't have seen that." Tyüen said, frowning, narrowing his eyes at him and he could see the man tensing up, ready to get up from the sofa. "You're not living here long enough and your house is laying too far away from mine anyway. You are unable looking at the Dursleys' back yard where theirs and mine yard are meeting. I have been too careful with that."

"You also have called on child services a few times, anonymously, and you've had a friend of you calling them too, but they never have investigated." He then said, inwardly smirking at the dark eyes going larger and larger. "You also have watered the Dursleys back yard once in a while when Harry hadn't been able to and you've -" Nearly gasping for a moment he stopped before quickly gathering his senses. "- you have made the snow slowly disappearing one winter when the boy had been working outside for hours, trying to free the Dursleys' driveway from snow. You are a wizard."

"I … I don't understand." Tyüen gasped, actually standing by now and he could recognize something akin to fear in the man's stance. "I have done no such thing. I've put food into Harry's pocket, yes, and I've called on child service, yes, I'll admit that, however you've learned about that, but I've never made snow disappearing! I've wished that the snow might disappear, yes, and I've wished that it would stop snowing, yes, but anyone would have wished that while watching the small boy slaving away with that large shovel! I don't know what you …"

"I have learned about it because I am a wizard as well." He said, seriously, preparing for the worst while at the same time realizing that - Tyüen didn't even know that he was a wizard, however that was possible to begin with. "As are you. I have used a spell that is called _'legillimence'_ and that allows me to see those memories I have awakened by asking questions. And what you have done is called _'wishmagic'_ or _'accidental magic'_, something that wizarding children use before they start their magical education from the age of eleven on."

"You are fooling me." Tyüen gasped, crossing the room, ready to pass him and to leave, and he grabbed the man's upper arm, stopping him.

"You have never done strange things when you've been upset or angry?" He asked, not really knowing how to approach an adult with such a thing. He'd had children at Hogwarts, in his house, that had been muggle raised, not even knowing that they'd been wizards until they'd gotten their letters and it had been his duty to visit them and their parents to explain things to them - but approaching an adult with the subject of being a wizard? "Or your daughter? She's never done strange things when she didn't want to eat what you've fed her when she's been little? She's never done strange things when you'd put her to bed when she's been little? She's never summoned toys into her bed when she didn't wish to sleep but wanted to play instead? Think, Tyüen, and think wisely. Magic exists, as do wizards and witches. And I do know this because I _am _a wizard, and I am teaching on a school for young witches and wizards. You yourself said you cannot explain it with words - but I can and I tell you that you are a wizard. Run away now, and you'll never learn more about it, stay, if you wish to learn more."

"Give me one single proof, Snape." Tyüen said, hissed at him angrily, the dark eyes flaring and he smirked while pulling his hand back quickly, just before showing his palm to the other man - who looked at the burnt skin but didn't understand.

"Wish magic, Tyüen." He said, gritting his teeth against the pain in his palm. "You have defended yourself against me having a hold on you.

"That … I didn't mean … I didn't mean to harm you!" The man gasped, the dark eyes going large in a dark face that was paling. "I apologize!"

"There is no need to apologize as you only have used accidental magic to defend yourself against my hold." He said, summoning a jar with a healing salve, causing the man to gasp at him. "Neither was it my intention to startle you, but I _had _to make you seeing reason. I am a wizard, as is Harry - and if you wish to be of help, then you should be aware of that little fact or we cannot trust each other. That you are a wizard yourself, is an added bonus wich I haven't known until seeing the memory of you using wish magic to help Harry with the snow."

"Your hand is healing." Tyüen said while watching him, watching the palm he was covering with the healing salve, watching the skin getting back to normal. "But … if you're able to heal your hand, then why are you not healing Harry?"

"What do you think would Dursley do if he knew that the child is healing in the time span between the morning and the evening while being at pre-school?" He asked, sighing, trying to imagine the shock the man had to be in. "He would have the boy paying with even more pain, with more beatings, with more starvation and with more abuse. I am providing Harry with pain relievers, with calming potions, with nutrient potions and with food and rest whenever I am possible, and I make sure that any injury won't get worse or infected, but I would endanger the boy if I did more than that and Dursley would find out - what he would, believe me. That man is not stupid."

"You're right." Tyüen said, softly, having sat down back into the armchair he'd been sitting in before, defeated somehow. There wasn't anything else the man was saying, Tyüen sitting there with his mind apparently far away, his dark eyes adrift and in only Merlin knew what dimension and he allowed the man his time, knowing that Tyüen needed this time for himself.

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"This changes so much for me and my daughter." He said, still not really understanding what it would mean for him. "What do I do now?" He then asked, looking at the dark man. He had known from the beginning on that Snape was a strange man, that he was different, that there was more to that man than the eye met - but a wizard? Magic being real? Real magic, not those tricks some people showed in the streets of London or in the television?

He'd never noticed having done something like that, something like Snape had said was magic, like freeing the Dursleys' driveway from the snow. He'd wished that it would be snow-free, yes, but he'd never known that his wish had become real. He'd considered going out, helping the boy, but he'd known that he only would get the boy into trouble then and so he'd left it at that.

And yes, of course his daughter had done strange things, was still doing strange things sometimes, but not so often anymore the older she got.

Back then, when she'd been really small, then she'd suddenly had toys in her crib to play with instead of sleeping, toys which he'd been sure that they had been in the shelf before. He'd even made some tests, clearly cleaning the crib from any toys, placing all of them in the shelf where they belonged to, but in the morning there had been the toys in the crib. Back then he'd thought that maybe he'd missed one or another that had been beneath the pillow, or that he'd missed one beneath the blanket - but magic? Never would he have thought _that_.

He remembered that his brother had done strange things too, sometimes, when he'd been really small, but as he'd been small too then, it only was a vague memory.

Had Snape said that …

"Did you say that you've read my mind?" He asked, scowling at the other man that really seemed to be a true wizard!

"No, I didn't." Snape answered, calmly, as if he'd known that questions would come. "A mind is not a book that can be read. I only have awakened memories with asking questions or mentioning things and I only have viewed them. I have not developed deeper into your mind than necessary to make you see."

"Is there a way to defend such a thing as you have done?" He asked, incredulous, causing the man to chuckle and he scowled. How was he to know what to do? He'd just learned that he was a wizard - and honestly? He wasn't even sure if he really should believe it, because maybe Snape was just making one big joke. But then - there really were things, strange things and …

"Of course there is." Snape answered. "It is called occlumency, but I suggest you first learn to control your magic before you try to learn something that is far over your head."

"That is possible?" He couldn't help asking. He was an adult man, not a child! How was he to learn something that he had within him for his entire life without knowing it? Was it even something that was within him? Was it … what exactly was it even? Was it something that was - nature? Like the leaves on the trees? Could it be seen? Like the lungs or the heart? Was it made of flesh or bones?

"Greater men than you and I have tried to find an explanation as to where exactly our magic is situated in our body or what it is, why we have it, while the muggles have none or why some wizards are unable using it." Snape said, seriously, watching him calmly while reaching him a glass that looked as if it held whiskey and he frowned. "It is not fermented corn - it is meade and therefore made of honey. I think you do need it at the moment. Magic is not something you can explain, not real magic at least. A magic trick you can explain, but not real magic. It is a gift, take it as what it is. It will be hard enough to explain it to Harry one day, I don't need you denying it in addition to the boy and I am sure that he will do just that. Already he is suppressing his magic, what would surrender him a squib in the end. You do have a magical core and it is strong, I have checked it while you have been thinking, and you can learn how to control your magic. I suggest you allow your daughter growing with all the strange things she's doing and I suggest you allow her attending a wizarding academy the day she becomes eleven years old, whatever academy that will be then and I suggest that you look for an adult wizard who could teach you how to control your magic too."

"Can't you do this?" He asked in the spur of the moment. He didn't know Snape - but …

How was he to approach someone one day with such a thing like - being a wizard and having to learn to control his magic? He would so very much make a fool out of himself then! Not to mention that he knew Snape already and even if the man looked dark and tough, he seemed fair. A hard taskmaster, but the strength the man radiated, his will and his power - it was as if … if there was anyone he would trust with that, then it was this man. He couldn't explain it, he couldn't even put it into words still, but - he trusted this man.

"Are you sure that this is what you want?" Severus Snape asked and he thought about the question. "I am not a pleasant man. I am a harsh man and I am a dark man. I am a hard taskmaster and three quarter of the students at Hogwarts do hate me with all their power."

"And still there is one quarter that does not hate you." He said, still not knowing why he was doing this. "I am sure that if I want to learn this thing, then it is you I ask you to be my teacher."

"Then the first thing you will have to learn is - to name it." Snape said, glowering at him, but somehow this glowering didn't scare him or made him angry. "It is not a thing, it is magic and you will have to acknowledge it as what it is or you won't be able controlling it ever."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

There was no - "don' wanna go" and there was no "wanna 'tay wif u" either. There was no "tlease tay wif u" and there was nothing else - not even tears. But there was such a sad look on the small and pale face that it hurt his chest. This silent acceptance was worse than if the boy had cried blue murder and he would do anything to keep him from going back to the Dursleys.

The weekend had been far better than he had expected, the boy _'reading'_ books in the room he'd given him, the boy shyly standing in the doorway, in a silent way asking if he might come out of the room, and the boy sitting with him at the kitchen table for meals, at the sofa in the living room for reading or for exercises on his speech.

Harry still wasn't able to say Harry instead of Arry, but well, at least the boy spoke at all, and this weekend had helped in speaking freely with him, Snape. Where he mostly had gained just a nod or a headshake so far, now the boy was actually speaking with him, was even asking questions, softly and shyly, ready to retreat and ready to take back his question, ready to ignore his own question should he, Snape, not react - but he did ask them.

What had been a bit of a struggle - just like the last weekend he'd had the boy over - had been getting the boy to use the furniture to begin with.

**Flashback**

_"Sit down, child." He said, noticing that the boy - again - stood there, beside the table instead of sitting on a chair, just like last time he'd been over._

_"'m not 'lowed." The boy murmured, just like he'd done last time he'd been here, his eyes averted, directed to the floor and his voice so soft it barely was audible._

_"Not only are you allowed here, it is required of you to use the furniture." He said, keeping his voice calm and not angry. "Your relatives might not allow you such in their house, but I expect you to sit on the chairs, the sofa or the armchairs. I also expect you to use the sofa or the bed for sleeping and I expect you to eat from the table. Don't do it at the Dursleys, but here you might."_

_There was a hesitant nod, but at least the boy did sit down - at the edge of the chair. Well, he knew that it would have to do for now, knew that pushing the boy too far would only scare him away and so he ignored it, the boy sitting on the chair with only half his backside. Of course he knew that it could be, that the boy was in pain, maybe had been beaten by Dursley before pre-school this morning, but seeing that he'd already taken care of that, had given the boy something for the pain he - sadly - always was in, he doubted that. Harry was just scared._

_'And rightfully so.' A small voice in the back of his mind said. 'Have all adults failed him, after all.' _

**End Flashback**

The telephone ringing had him jumping into the air, startled, and he looked over at Mr. Snape with large eyes. Somehow it had been so silent here, so peaceful, so without any trouble, he somehow hadn't even realized that Mr. Snape had a telephone at all.

Mr. Tyüen had been over once, yesterday afternoon, with Fatma Sebil, and they'd been playing together. It had been nice to play with the girl, he wasn't able to play with any children normally because Dudley aways beat the other children if they played with him and so he hadn't known how to play with the girl at first.

Well, Mr. Snape looked down at him when he jumped, because of the telephone, his stern eyes fixing him for a moment, like they always did, but then he went to the telephone and took the receiver.

_'Eat an apple, save the core, plant the seeds and grow some more.'_ He thought to get his mind off his fears, smiling at the new rhyme he'd learned. He liked this one, just as much as he liked the one with the rain that was going away so that little Harry could play.

"Snape." He heard his teacher saying, his tone of voice harsher than it was when he was speaking with him, or the other children. Somehow Mr. Snape really was strange, he couldn't help thinking, but as strange as he was, he did like him, a lot.

"Of course, Vernon." Mr. Snape said and he held his breath. This was uncle Vernon Mr. Snape was talking to. What was … "No, I do not mind. Of course not. I will send him home after pre-school tomorrow. No, I really do not mind, Vernon, I have enough work to do here in the house after all. I would be happy, yes. Of course. Until Wednesday then, good evening, Vernon and please give my regards to your wife."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Well, there had been no sobbed words, no tears and no other emotional or childish nonsense, but he couldn't help smiling in relief when he went back into the living room where the boy was sitting, watching him with large eyes that bordered on hope.

"You will have to deal with me for a few hours longer as your uncle has asked me to keep you for the night." He said, nearly chuckling at the shy smile that boy gave him, as if he had to keep it a secret that it wasn't such a bad thing, staying with him, Snape, but that he liked it very much actually. "They will pick your cousin up from your uncle's sister by tomorrow and I will take you to pre-school. Only after pre-school, will you go home. If this is amenable with you."

Well, he didn't know what amendable was, but whatever it was, he was happy about staying and so he quickly nodded his head, trying to keep the smile from his face. Mr. Snape nearly never smiled and surely he wouldn't want him smiling either. But he would like to smile right now, because he had a few more hours of peace, he had another night of peace and rest and he could stay with his teacher until tomorrow evening after pre-school! He surely was the most happy boy in all the world right now!

Watching the boy and knowing exactly what was going through the child's head, he went down to one knee in front of the small form.

"Just because I am a serious man, it doesn't mean that you are not allowed to smile, child." He softly said, realizing that he was a very lucky man, being blessed with a child such as Harry, a child that was thinking he was the most happy child in the world, because of simply having a few hours of peace and rest. Not because a new television, not because a computer or not because of a bicycle - no, just because he would have a few more hours of peace and rest, without being starved and beaten.

What a lucky man indeed.

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_A new alley or a new fiend? _…

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

626 - Gryffindor

589 - Slytherin

509 - Ravenclaw

302 - Hufflepuff


	20. Joseph Carrington - or doc Joe

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs - whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_Well, he didn't know what amendable was, but whatever it was, he was happy about staying and so he quickly nodded his head, trying to keep the smile from his face. Mr. Snape nearly never smiled and surely he wouldn't want him smiling either. But he would like to smile right now, because he had a few more hours of peace, he had another night of peace and rest and he could stay with his teacher until tomorrow evening after pre-school! He surely was the most happy boy in all the world right now!_

_Watching the boy and knowing exactly what was going through the child's head, he went down to one knee in front of the small form._

_"Just because I am a serious man, it doesn't mean that you are not allowed to smile, child." He softly said, realizing that he was a very lucky man, being blessed with a child such as Harry, a child that was thinking he was the most happy child in the world, because of simply having a few hours of peace and rest. Not because a new television, not because a computer or not because of a bicycle - no, just because he would have a few more hours of peace and rest, without being starved and beaten._

_What a lucky man indeed._

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter twenty**

**Joseph Carrington - or doc Joe**

Watching the new pre-school teacher from his window he allowed his thoughts to run along on their own, knowing that this way you got the silliest - and yet the wisest ideas, by just allowing your thoughts to think alone, without forcing them into one or another direction.

This man was a pre-school teacher, the first male pre-school teacher Little Whinging had ever had. He'd heard of others, of course, but surely he would have never thought that a small village like Little Whinging would hire a male pre-school teacher. But well, maybe they should have done so a year earlier already, because the boy he'd been watching since a year - Petunia Dursley's nephew - well, this man was the first one who seemed to care for this child properly. He'd seen him a few times now, providing the boy with what a child needs, such as food or a jacket, just for example.

Even though he seemed to do so secretly, because the boy was wearing the jacket when being outside during the break in pre-school, but not when coming in the mornings or when going home in the early evenings after kindergarten was over. He'd listened to the people and he'd watched people, this boy included as well as the Dursleys and the Dursley's neighbours or friends throughout the year, hoping to find someone who could be an ally in getting the boy out of Dursley's hands safely, but so far he had found none. He had of course heard about the little boy that had been beaten by his mother, he didn't remember their names as they were not patients of him, but he'd heard of this particular man, the new pre-school teacher, taking actions in getting the boy away from his mother and handed over to his father.

Well, there was Tyüen, for example, a Turk who'd come to England a few years ago, together with his wife, to work nearby in the next town as a mechanic for helicopters. He didn't know what exactly it was Tyüen was doing, but he knew that it had something to do with finishing the helicopters, with checking them before they were sent to the police or the emergency rescue service. Tyüen had a little daughter he was raising alone since his wife had died in childbed and he was a very caring father. And he was one of those who had started asking questions once in a while, strange questions that had him paying closer attention to some other people, like - what to do if one noticed a child being neglected. In other words, Tyüen knew something, but he didn't say something.

Smiling he watched the pre-school teacher seating the boy on the swings and then gently starting to push him. The boy looked startled at first, tightening his grip on the swing enough so that he could even see his small fists cramping, but then he relaxed and there even was a small smile on the pale and thin face, the first smile he ever had seen on this child's face since he had come to pre-school last year. Yes, the first teacher who had the boy playing outside instead of sitting on a bench or standing in a corner, watching the others playing.

Well, of course he'd asked Tyüen directly, what he was speaking of, what _child _he was speaking of, but he hadn't gotten any answer except of - he'd wish to keep his job and his house, nor would he like risking his daughter's safety. In other words, the man had been scared. And that, in turn, led him to the thinking that - he only could have meant Dursley, because it was Vernon Dursley who was one of the most influential people here in Little Whinging, having not only the board on his side, but the police and the public authorities too.

He hadn't had any kind of - _'proof'_, at least no _personal_ proof, for the lack of a better word, until this particular boy had been to pre-school and he'd noticed him, because Tyüen hadn't told him what child he was speaking of, never, he'd only asked for advice in handling one or another situation. But well, that had been better than nothing and after he'd learned about the child, who he was, he could understand Tyüen. He himself wouldn't do anything against Dursley openly, and he was the local medical practitioner, a well respected and esteemed man.

Well, and then there were the Masons who lived in the Dursley's neighbourhood and were close with Vernon Dursley, at least Mr. Mason was. He doubted that Mrs. Dursley would fulfil the expectations of Mrs. Mason, because Mrs. Mason was a snob and no one fulfilled her requirements. On the other hand was Mrs. Dursley a _'wannabe-snob'_ with her nose high in the air and looking down on everyone, even Mrs. Mason.

Well, he knew Petunia Dursley, he'd been the family doctor of the Evans' for long years when Petunia and Lily had been children still. He hadn't had Lily Evans visiting often, seeing that the girl had visited a boarding school in Scotland and had only been home during the summer holidays and during Christmas holidays, but Petunia Evans he had seen rather often. However, Lily had been visiting his office often enough so that he soon had learned the difference between the two Evans girls. Where Lily had been bright and intelligent, there had Petunia been struggling along her way, what most likely had been the reason as to why she hadn't been attending the same boarding school as Lily had. And where Lily had been simple and agile, nearly graceful - there had Petunia been awkward and slow, rather clumsily. But the most noticable difference always had been - where Lily had been a happy child, always laughing and smiling, charming everyone with her kind heart - Petunia had been a bitter child with a cold and hard heart and somehow he was sure that the older sister had hated her younger sibling, most likely out of jealousy.

This boy on the swings did remind him of Lily so very much, his entire charisma screamed Lily Evans - and then those green eyes! The same green eyes he'd seen in Lily's face - only that this child was calmer, quieter, and sadder - and ill, where Lily had been the example of life. He'd been startled upon hearing of her death, a few months ago after questioning Petunia Dursley about her.

**Flashback**

_He'd seen the unhealthy child a few times now, in the garden when the kindergarten children were playing around noon time - and his startling green eyes. He'd also watched Dudley Dursley going against this child more than against anyone else and he'd heard rumors, about the boys being related and the small boy living with the Dursleys. What had confused him at the beginning was - he not only had been the family doctor of the Evans, but also he was the family doctor of the Dursleys since the beginning, since Petunia Evans had married Vernon Dursley, and he had witnessed several stages of their life. When their son had been born, when Dursley had become more and more influential, when Dudley Dursley had started pre-school a year ago - but he had never heard of another child living in their household. What had him confused too was - Dudley Dursley was an overweight, loud and boasting child whereas the unhealthy child he was seeing at pre-school since this summer was small, thin and - silent, always keeping in the shadows, never playing with the others but staying alone. It was hard to imagine the two boys being related or living in the same household. What had also had him confused was the little fact that every day he saw Petunia parking her car near his office to bring Dudley to pre-school or to pick him up in the early evening when the kindergarten was over, but never had he seen the boy coming or leaving together with them._

_He of course couldn't see the entrance of the pre-school wing of St. Catherine from his office window, only the back of the house and the garden where the children were playing during their break, but Petunia always parked her car in the street beside the primary school wing, where he had his office and so he should have noticed the boy being with them once in a while, but he had never seen him with either Petunia or Dudley Dursley. _

_However, a few days ago he'd seen the child entering the Dursley's house after pre-school when he'd made a home visit at Tyüen's house when little Fatma Sebil had been ill during the last flu epidemic, and then he'd known that the rumours had been correct. And now he had Petunia sitting opposite him after bringing Dudley because of the boy coughing. _

_"I have a few questions, before you leave, Mrs. Dursley." He said after he had handed her the prescription for a coughing sirup for Dudley. "Why don't you go and play in the waiting room, young man? I'm sure that there you'll find more things to amuse yourself with than here while your mother and I exchange a few words. Mrs. Dursley, this boy that is living in your household, who is he?" He then asked after young Dursley had left, had waddled towards the door, slowly, and clearly not happy about having to do the extra exercise of walking a few steps that seemed rather unnecessary to him while he just as well could have stayed in his office to play with the few toys he had in a corner for his younger patients. _

_There was a pause during which Mrs. Dursley looked at him startled, as if she couldn't fathom his question, but then her face became dark. _

_"He's my nephew." Petunia Dursley said with pursed lips, her voice clearly pained, as if alone the thought of the boy being her nephew would cause immense pain to her. _

_"Lily's boy?" He asked, frowning at the woman. He had more than once wondered what had become of the girl. He knew that she had married a rich man, but that was all he knew. Lily had left Little Whinging when she'd been eighteen, had taken a job in the ministry if he'd gotten that correct and there she'd met her husband. He hadn't heard about what exactly she was doing in the ministry, but well, it had to be a good job, because most people who worked in the ministry had a rather good and well paid for job, not to mention that there she had met her husband, a rich man who surely wouldn't had married her if she had just cleaned the floors or the windows. _

_So Lily had a child on her own, a son - but it didn't help his confusion at all, because anyone who knew Lily Evans, surely would think that any child of her had to be a very happy child. This child he had seen however didn't seem happy at all. _

_"Of course he's Lily's boy." Petunia hissed and he looked at her startled. Last he had seen her like that, had been when she'd been a small girl that had pouted after her sister had been praised for something well done. "You just have to look at him to see Lily and Potter in him."_

_"May I ask why he's living with you, Mrs. Dursley?" He asked, not really understanding - Lily would never give her child away, he was sure of that, and surely not to her sister. The two girls had never been close and even though he knew that Lily had never disliked her older sister, he knew that she'd never gotten along with her either. Well, and nor did he understand why the boy would live with Petunia in the first place, if the woman did dislike him so much._

_"Vernon and I have taken the boy in after his parents have died." Petunia said, snappish. _

_"I see." He said, suddenly understanding, and suddenly very sad. He'd always liked Lily, and he hadn't known that she'd died. "May I ask how Lily died?"_

_"They - were killed." Petunia said and he had the impression that she originally had wanted to say something different - and he had the impression that there seemed something like regret, something like pain, or sadness, in her voice, in her face - at least for a short moment. He was shocked anyway. Who would kill such a nice and pretty young woman like Lily Evans - or Potter, if he'd gotten Petunia right? What a sad story! The boy had lost both his parents, and in such a cruel way no less, and had now to live with his aunt and uncle where he wasn't really welcomed, he was sure of that. Petunia seemed to have transferred her hate she'd had for her sister towards her sister's son - and he only could imagine what that must mean for the child. _

_"I would like to see the boy, Mrs. Dursley." He said, making up his mind. "Please do come next week."_

_"The Potters' doctor is visiting if need be." Petunia said, sounding defiantly and he sighed, knowing that he couldn't do anything to force her bringing the boy for a medical examination if she didn't want to. "It is typical for them to have special treatment. But well, that's been Potter's wish, so who am I to question it!"_

**End flashback**

Of course Petunia had never visited him with the boy - and it was clear that she didn't care about him either.

Watching the new pre-school teacher lifting the boy off the swings and standing him on his feet he nearly chuckled when there was a slow and timid movement coming from the child, in form of a small hand slipping into the larger one of the man while the child looked up with so much hope on the small face that he needed to take a deep breath for a moment. There was a frown on the pale face of the teacher when he looked down at the small child, but he didn't pull his hand back, something that had made him, Joseph Carrington, smile. Yes, he had watched that man since some time now, since the beginning of the school year, and yes, that man played a dark role, a cold role, as if he always were angry, as if he didn't care, but his actions belied his looks - that man _did_ care about the child.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Harry." Severus called the boy back after he'd closed the door of the car when Harry had climbed down, with a soft "dank 'u, 'n bye" and was about to leave for Privet Drive.

He still brought the boy to the corner between Wisteria Walk and Privet Drive so that he just had to walk a few steps but wouldn't be seen by his aunt and uncle, what allowed him a few minutes more with Harry each evening, time the child didn't have to walk what was tiring him out after a day in pre-school that was strenuous for any small child to begin with and for Harry in particular.

"You have had a peaceful weekend, take those memories to go to sleep tonight while you are at the Dursleys." He said. "Clear your mind and remember the peace you have felt during those days. I will see what I can do to get you over again, I promise."

Again, there were no tears, there was no "don' wanna go" or "wanna 'tay wif 'u" nothing but that bloody silent acceptance and the bloody boy giving him a nod before slowly turning and walking towards the Dursleys' house, towards number four, Privet Drive. Scowling darkly he got back into the car, drove the last few yards towards his house. He parked the car in the garage, not even bothering with closing the garage door, and then he went into the house, keeping himself from looking over at number four, where his boy was right now.

Frowning he stopped mid-step in the semi dark corridor.

_His_ boy.

Where in Merlin's bloody name had _that_ particular thought come from!

Potter was not - _his_ boy!

And yet - he felt as if his chest hurt at the thought of the boy being over there with the Dursleys, most likely getting into one or another trouble with his uncle, just to come back to school tomorrow morning with new bruises and injuries like always, at the knowledge that most likely the child would lay in his bloody cupboard, most likely hungry because he'd not gotten dinner, unable to sleep because of fear, because of pain, because of whatever - and he knew, it was a thought that had him being up in the nights just as well, sometimes even standing behind his dark window, looking over at the Dursley's house, glad whenever he saw no light in their house, because that meant that the Dursleys were sleeping and that Harry too had a bit of peace and rest.

He'd started healing the worst of those injuries, not daring to take any risks with the child, but he always left the minor bruises, not daring to take any risks with the damn bastard of Dursley. It always was a walk on a tightrope, when he was forced to deal with any abused child, but never before had it been a tightrope as high as this one - nor one as instable and insecure as was this one, and more than once had he nearly lost his footing. He would not only fall himself then, but he would pull a small child with him if he -

The door bell ringing had him cursing silently and for a moment he wondered if he really should answer the doorbell. He was neither in the mood nor in the condition to deal with Vernon Dursley right now - but then, there was no other chance. He couldn't afford disappointing the man yet - nor could he afford missing to learn of any news they might have, maybe they even were going to a holiday next weekend again?

But no, surely not, that would be too much luck.

Opening the door he lifted his eyebrow questioningly at the stranger that was standing in front of his door.

"Good afternoon, how can I help you, sir?" He asked, not sure if the man had come to the wrong house or if there was a reason as to why a stranger would visit him.

"My name is Carrington, Joseph Carrington, and I am the local medical practitioner here in Little Whinging." The man said and he frowned, wondering what a medical would want of him but then he stepped aside to let the man in. He didn't look as if asking for his middle name to collect statistics, and so he knew - whatever the man wanted of him, he better allowed them some privacy.

"Very well, doctor Carrington, what can I help you with?" He then asked, allowing the man into his kitchen and offering him a seat.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Mr. Potter's drawing?" He asked when looking at the fridge where a picture was taped, a small child with a dark man walking in a park, hand in hand.

There was no answer to that, just the man looking at him questioningly still and he sighed. Yes, that picture would make a lot of sense if the child, young Mr. Potter - he still didn't know his first name and his last name only because he knew that Lily had married _'a Potter'_ - saw his new pre-school teacher as some kind of a father figure. And considering the care he had seen coming from the teacher - well, it could be that the child saw it that way.

"I can watch you outside with the kindergarten children at St. Catherine for some time now." He then said. "And I wondered about Surrey employing a male pre-school teacher."

"Not the board did give me the job, but Miss Davenport, the headmistress of St. Catherine as I only will be working there for the year as a substitute for Miss Adams." The man - Severus Snape, according to the sign beneath the door bell - said, his voice deep and smooth, dark, but calm and he smiled. It was a voice that befitted the man's appearance well. "I am however sure that this was not the real reason to your visit. As small as this village is and as much as gossip makes its rounds, as a medic with an academic title, I am sure you are above them."

Proper speech, a sharp mind and telling what is on that mind - yes, Snape seemed a man that was intelligent - most likely having an academic title himself.

"You are not one to beat around the bush, I see." He said, smiling. "I have seen you with young Mr. Potter, and as much as I would like having that boy in a medical examination, Mrs. Dursley never brought the boy to my office. If I have to set a name, Mr. Snape, then I would use the word neglect, even though I know that it is a dangerous thing to do with Vernon Dursley being influential enough to have a corrupt police office and just as corrupt public authorities on his side."

He watched the man's dark eyes going even darker, going hard and angry, before the man turned to the cupboard to pull two cups from the board. He allowed the young teacher his time while pouring coffee and getting milk and sugar from the sideboard, carrying everything to the table and placing one of the cups in front of him before sitting down opposite him. When Snape next looked at him, the man's eyes were guarded - and hard.

"Well, there are two possibilities." Snape then said, calmly, his dark voice soft and slow, as if being very careful about his next words. "You either have come for help - or for blackmail, and as I am a very negative and careful person - what is it you want?" Well, there was a threatening undertone in the dark voice, unmistakably, and he couldn't help smiling. A dark man indeed. Yet, he knew very well that he better didn't mess around with this particular man and even though Snape was offering him something for his silence, he would be ready to keep him silent in his _own _way, he was sure of that and he didn't dare imagining what exact way this was.

"I am not here for blackmailing you, Mr. Snape." He said, taking the cup of coffee while ignoring the sugar and the milk. "I am rather here to ask for your help. I am searching for someone as an ally when it comes to that boy since some time now, and I think that I have found that person. You seem to care about Mr. Potter, I have watched you interacting with him, and I can see that the child is healthier than he had been ever before - even though I surely would not call him healthy in the first place. You don't seem to be afraid of Vernon Dursley and his influence, Mr. Snape, nor of public authorities and as I know of one or another person who could be of help … well, the more people are not blinded and silenced by Dursley, the better are the chances of finally getting the boy out of that household and into a foster family or at least into an orphanage. Anything is better than this household."

"Whom do you speak of, Doctor Carrington, and what exactly do you have on your mind?" Severus asked, very carefully. He hadn't though of getting a muggle doctor into the boat, but the thought wasn't so absurd, actually. He'd been about to say _'actually I'm planning on adopting the brat'_ but not knowing if he could trust the man yet, he didn't. It wasn't important for that man yet to know about that.

"Seeing as you don't trust me yet, Mr. Snape, I'm sure that you understand that I won't give away the names of any possible alley." Carrington chuckled, leaning back and taking a sip of the black coffee. "I'm speaking of Mr. Tyüen and of Miss Davenport. I know that Mr. Tyüen already has been watching one thing or another, as has Miss Davenport, both have already addressed me with the issue. I have already called for child welfare, but they came to tell me - everything is alright in the Dursleys' household. And so - well, I'm sure you don't feel too well, Mr. Snape, what was the reason as to why I've made a home visit. Won't you visit me at my office for another checkup on Thursday evening at half past five? I know for sure that Mr. Tyüen and Miss Davenport are not feeling too well either."

"Now that you mention it - I really do feel as if I caught a cold." He smirked. "I'm sure however that your waiting room will be rather overfilled, because I know that Mr. Howell, the math teacher at St. Catherine has been coughing all day. And then there's Miss Harvest from child welfare in London who might have been infected upon our last meeting."

"I won't have any other patients Thursday evening as this is my free afternoon normally, but for so many people being afflicted by the wave of flu, I can't deny consultation, of course."

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Ignoring the pain in his stomach and ignoring the pain in his back too, he lay in his cupboard, sobbing silently, running his arms around his stomach in an attempt to not only ease the pain a bit, but to - to do _some_thing, to do _any_thing, to get a bit of comfort. He had come home and he'd started dinner, like always, and everything had gone well - until he'd dropped uncle Vernon's glass with the wine he was having for dinner each evening, and all over the man's lap even. He'd been horrified after that, knowing that uncle Vernon would be really, really, _really_ mad now, and for a moment he even had thought of running away, running out of the house, running over to Mr. Snape.

He knew that the teacher would help him.

But he also knew that Mr. Snape was correct - he couldn't do anything now. He knew that Mr. Snape was preparing one thing or another, that he was about to do something, but he had to wait until Mr. Snape had done that, until he had finished whatever it was he was doing, because if he didn't then it would be like always. Then a lady from an office would come, would drink tea with aunt Petunia and with uncle Vernon, and then he would be accused of being a liar, and then Mr. Snape would go away because uncle Vernon would make him going away.

He had no idea what it was Mr. Snape could be doing against that in the first place, but he knew that the man was doing _some_thing, he had _said_ that he would. He even had told him what he was doing, and he knew that it included the lady that had been there at school one day, but he hadn't really understood everything of it and other things he'd forgotten. But he understood that he had to wait until Mr. Snape had finished doing whatever he was doing or he would have to go and he didn't want Mr. Snape going away, because Mr. Snape was the only one who cared about him.

Little did the child know that there were several more people who cared, actually, that they were about to meet, that they were to do something, that they were to work on a solution - otherwise he maybe would have been able to draw a bit of confidence out of that thought, then maybe he would have been able sleeping a bit more peaceful than he actually did lately, and maybe he would have known that it had an end - but he didn't know, and it was good that way, because maybe that knowledge would have caused one or another stupid reaction from that boy that was a child still, a desperate child, and any child would handle illogical and irrational instead of keeping his head low - while one or another stupid reaction might thwart the plan the adults were working on.

_"You have had a peaceful weekend, take those memories to go to sleep tonight while you are at the Dursleys. Clear your mind and remember the peace you have felt during those days.I will see what I can do to get you over again, I promise."_ Mr. Snape had said - and that was what he was doing.

He was laying on the thin baby mattress he'd gotten when Dudley had gotten his _'big bed'_, and he was imagining that he was not laying in his cupboard, but in his teacher's guest room that looked so nice, like if he'd made if for a child even, that he was laying in the adult's arms, that the arms he had wound around his stomach were not his own, but his teacher's, and this bit of comfort he was drawing out of the weekend, out of his imagination - it was enough for now, it was enough to endure another night, it was enough to go through tomorrow morning, because he knew, tomorrow, when he got back to pre-school, then he was back at home, then he was back with the only person who cared, and for an entire day!

Yes, he would survive the night.

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_Another day - just like any other normal day _…

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

634 - Gryffindor

599 - Slytherin

514 - Ravenclaw

304 - Hufflepuff


	21. the third class

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs - whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_He was laying on the thin baby mattress he'd gotten when Dudley had gotten his 'big bed', and he was imagining that he was not laying in his cupboard, but in his teacher's guest room that looked so nice, like if he'd made it for a child even, that he was laying in the adult's arms, that the arms he had wound around his stomach were not his own, but his teacher's, and this bit of comfort he was drawing out of the weekend, out of his imagination - it was enough for now, it was enough to endure another night, it was enough to go through tomorrow morning, because he knew, tomorrow, when he got back to pre-school, then he was back at home, then he was back with the only person who cared, and for an entire day!_

_Yes, he would survive the night. _

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter twenty-one**

**The third class**

Watching Harry laying on the mattress while the other children were sitting on the carpet he sighed. He had not brought Harry to the rest room yesterday morning, but had him laying on his mattress instead, with his blanket and with Mr. Moo. Of course he could have allowed the boy to take both with him to the rest room, but seeing the condition the boy had been in, he had known that he just would have run to and fro between the classroom and the rest room, as there was no way he had the boy partaking in the class and sitting on the carpet or the chairs.

He'd barely been able hiding his fury at the Dursleys the moment he had picked up the boy who'd made his way along Wisteria Walk slowly, limping worse than he had a few days ago. He'd helped the boy into the car and then he'd helped him out and into the pre-school wing where he'd taken him to the classroom and to his mattress immediately. He'd cared for the worst injuries before giving him breakfast. He hadn't even cared for any speaking lessons anymore but had just slipped a sleeping potion into the boy's milk.

He'd asked Miss Davenport to take his students to the gym for their physical education later in the morning, at ten, as there was no way for Harry to partake in that lesson and the woman, shocked herself to the core, had agreed without a fuss.

Harry had woken at one point in the morning, during the other children arriving, but he'd told the boy to stay put on his mattress instead of going over to the carpet where the other children had gathered around.

**Flashback**

_"You stay on your mattress, Harry." He said when the other children took their seats on the carpet, ready to start the morning lesson. "I want you to rest, lay back down and just listen, that will do." He took the blanket Harry had put aside when he'd been about to get up and re-covered the boy. He looked at the tired, thin and drawn face for a bit longer before he got up from the floor where he'd been kneeling and went over to the blue carpet where the other children were already sitting, waiting for their lesson to begin. On his way he pushed the large table that stood in the middle of the room aside and then just took the carpet at one corner and pulled it - with all the bloody toddler-imbeciles on it - closer to the mattresses and therefore closer to Harry, causing the entire bunch of snotty children to squeak and squeal in delight. He then pushed the table to where the carpet had been laying before, therefore rearranging the classroom furniture, but he thought that it was more important keeping Harry at his mattress while keeping the class together at the same time._

**End Flashback**

"Now, tell me the alphabet you've learned so far, Gabriel, you begin." He said, knowing that he still had a job to fulfill with all those children while at the same time hoping that soon he could take Harry from the Dursleys. It would make things so much easier - but silently he vowed, if a solution wasn't found soon, then he'd just take the boy and kidnap him, never mind what anyone else was saying. He'd leave England and settle somewhere else, maybe in the States where he had a friend, maybe in Norway where he had friends too, maybe even in a complete different part of the world. He was a Potions Master, and he was the youngest Potions Master in all the wizarding world since hundreds of years - he had a name, and he had people who knew that name. He wouldn't go as far as calling all of them friends, but he knew that there were some whom he could trust as they held the guild of the Potions Masters high.

"A is for alligator, A is for ants, A is for apples on my pants." Gabriel said, smiling happily and he nodded his head and then looked at Gabriela who was sitting directly behind her brother.

"B is for bear, B is for boat, B is for buttons on my coat." The girl said, and he gave her a short "well done" before looking at her friend, Amelie.

"C is for cow, C is for cat, C is for - for cater … pillar - on my hat." Amelie said, unsure at the word caterpillar.

"That is a difficult word, caterpillar, isn't it Amelie?" He softly said, starting to see all those children in a new light. "You've done that very well though." None of those children had complained because Harry was allowed on the mattress still, nor had they complained about anything else during the past few days when it came to Harry. On the contrary, they had always tried to be of help, trying to get the smaller boy into their playing and into their conversations. "Andrew."

"D is for dinosaur, D is for dog, D is for doll on my log. But I don't have a doll, I don't play with dolls!" The boy immediately said, feeling the need to clarify that and he smiled.

"Of course not, Andrew." He said. "I think we all know that you're playing with your collection of matchbox cars - which is rather impressive, I have to admit." He then added, causing the boy to smile and he huffed at himself. Here he was, having a senseless conversation about a boy's collection of matchbox cars, with a nose-picking and drooling toddler just to make said bloody toddler smile. But well - he didn't even mind, because he had learned to like those bloody nose-picking and drooling toddlers that got him in one or another awkward situation more often than not. "David, please." He then said.

"E is for envelope, E is for eggs, E is for elephant on my legs." The boy said, chuckling. "That would hurt, an Elephant on my legs." He said, and he smiled back at the boy. David wouldn't have chuckled in the beginning and most likely he wouldn't have said more than he had to on his own in the beginning either. But he did now and it showed him that the child was happy with living with his father instead of with his mother. It had been the right decision.

"That it would." He agreed. "Today we will learn a new letter of the alphabet, who knows which one? Yes, Isabelle?" He asked, the only girl who got her hand up as all the others seemed to not know. Yes, quite a know-it-all.

"It's the F." The girl answered and he nodded.

"Exactly, it's the F." He agreed. "Now you listen. F is for fire engine, F is for fish, F is for fox in my dish. Harry?"

"F is fow fiwe engine." The boy softly and slowly said from his mattress. Severus had put Harry's pillow at the foot of the mattress and his blanket towards the head of the mattress so that the child was now laying with his head close to the other children what allowed him more interaction with the group, but he knew that soon the boy would fall asleep again. "F is fow fish, F is fow fox in my dish." Well, he'd hoped that the boy would smile at the fire engine in the rhyme as he loved those cars, each morning taking this particular book with the fire engines and the police cars and ambulance cars to look at them, but he hadn't smiled.

"Bud 'ad's w'ong." The boy then softly said, just before closing his eyes as if he wanted to be left alone and he leaned over a bit.

"Why is that so, Harry?" He asked, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. Harry had fallen asleep on the mattress this morning after breakfast and he'd slept until most of the children had been present. He'd told Harry that he still was to stay at his mattress, never mind what, and that he did want the boy to rest still. And he surely wouldn't change that anytime soon, but he didn't tell the boy that.

"'u don've fox in 'uw dish, bud fish." The boy tiredly murmured, his eyes still closed, and even though he wanted to smile at those words - he couldn't, because he was more than just a bit worried while at the same time he knew - he couldn't do anything. There was absolutely nothing he could do, not with endangering the child even more. He didn't dare imagining the wrath Dursley would bestow upon this child if he learned about all that they were about to plan behind his back and on Harry's behalf. Most likely he would kill the boy.

"That is correct Harry." He softly answered. "Why don't you try to sleep a bit? I'm sure you'll feel a bit better then."

There wasn't even an answer, just a heavy sigh and he himself took a deep breath before turning back to the other children to have them all repeating the new letter and the new rhyme a few times.

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A knock on his door during their break while they were having lunch had him nearly growling, wondering which imbecile was disturbing his class now and he already could see Harry - who was sitting on the table for his soup - stiffening, the child's green eyes going large with horrors that were clearly playing out in his mind.

"Calm down, Harry." He softly said, placing his hand at the boy's shoulder to calm him while he got off his own small chair, something his back surely would complain about in a few months, he was sure of that, and going over to the door he opened. It wasn't however Dursley who was standing in front of his door this time, but Howell and he himself calmed down visibly as surely did Harry too.

"Gordon." He greeted the man. "What can I do for you?"

"My apology for disturbing your class, Severus." The man said, really sounding apologetically, but well, the man was a teacher himself and he surely knew how annoying it was if a lesson was interrupted. "I've waited until lunch time, hope you don't mind too much anyway."

"I don't, don't worry." He said, stepping aside so that Harry could easily see the man.

"That smells really tasty, Severus, what do you have there?" Howell asked, sniffing, most likely trying to ease the children - or rather _Harry_ - a bit.

"It's tomato soup with rice." He said. "Want some?"

"Sure." Howell said and he allowed the man in. "I have a free hour anyway until half past twelve - unfortunately, I'd need my free hour an hour later. You always have warm lunch with your students?"

"No." He said. "Normally they bring their lunch boxes with sandwiches or fruits with them, but I've decided to make a soup with them today. We've cooked it in the school kitchen during the morning lessons together." A morning lesson that had been so strange, and yet so - funny for the children.

He had slipped one arm around Harry's midsection, around his front and having the boy sitting on his hip with his behind and his legs dangling down on his, Snape's, side, well - the boy apparently had been comfortable with it, because he had been feeling how the child had relaxed more and more while the small fingers had been playing with the sleeves of his shirt.

"Well, that's nice." Howell said, eyeing the small chair he was offered suspiciously and he chuckled. Well, why should Howell fare better than him? Smirking he filled another plate for the math teacher, knowing that the children surely would hold their breaths until the man had tried their soup - which was quite rather delicious, he had to admit that. Those bloody toddler would make excellent potions students one day - especially Harry.

That boy had been brilliant with a knife, even if he was very slow due to his exhaustion and otherwise very unhealthy condition, and he didn't dare thinking of what the child would be capable of were he up and well - not to mention that it had been a rather funny thing, the boy, still dangling from his arm, taking one of the knives from the table the moment he had been standing close to it and - in his awkward position and just starting to chop some of the herbs he'd laying there.

He had first thought of refusing the boy's help in cooking together with the others, but the moment he had been about to tell the child so, there had been that scared and longing look, scared of being left out and longing to be allowed with the others - and so he had allowed the boy handling the knife and partaking in the task - while he had said boy still dangling from his side, just out of fun, to have the situation rather funny and relaxed instead of difficult and strained, while carefully watching his movements and ready to interfere should there be a problem arising.

However - indeed, those bloody children _did _stop eating while Howell blew over the red substance on his spoon, all of them, holding their breaths and watching the man with large eyes while he took the first spoon full of the soup.

It wasn't that he had planned on making soup with them to begin with when he had planned his lessons for the week - no. But knowing that Harry right now needed as much warm food that was easy on his stomach as possible, soup it was. And knowing that surely he couldn't bring soup for the boy and not for the others - and knowing that surely he couldn't bring a pot of soup to the school to begin with - he had them cooking.

Not fish, nor fox but soup, as Warren had said, the boy that loved television advertisements and he had shaken his head. Well, Warren Blacksmith, the same boy that had watched Harry strangely a few days ago, last week, when Harry had been on his lap during nearly all day after having been startled out of his wits by his uncle. Warren also had watched Harry strangely yesterday and today, while the boy had been laying on the mattress, being comforted by him, Snape, every now and then, and the only thing he could think of was - jealousy, but the boy did never look jealous when watching Harry so strangely, it was not a jealous look. Not to mention that, Warren Blacksmith had - except of giving him his hand each morning and each evening for a greeting and for a good-bye - never sought out any physical contact himself. Barely any of the boys did, David and Harry were the only two so far and even David only did so if he had a nightmare during his nap-time, what had lessened remarkably since he was living with his father.

The girls were more clingy, but even they didn't seek out physical contact overly, at least not as much as he had feared - too much for his comfort however anyway, but well, that was apparently something he couldn't change while working with snotty toddlers and that wasn't the point now anyway.

"What is it I can do for you, Gordon?" He asked the other teacher after the man had praised their soup.

"Well, I need your help, Severus." The man said, enjoying the soup still. "I have an appointment with the chief in London and I can't send my students home early because I have a lot of them with parents at work. Like I said, I needed my free hour an hour later, but regretfully - it's now."

"What about Miss Davenport?" He asked, frowning. So, there was a move in the matters concerning Harry, the Dursleys and corrupt authorities in Little Whinging.

"The headmistress is away from office since half an hour." The man sighed. "I just got the call this morning and I tried to find someone who overtook my class, but the only person that would have a free hour as her students have a lesson in traffic safety, the green cross code, shouldn't get infected by the wave of flu."

Weldon. No, surely not. He had to admit that Howell was cleverer than he first had thought, but he already had learned that, hadn't he?

"Surely not." He said, knowing that the man's appointment was important, very important indeed. "I'll ask Gwendolyn to overlook my raccoons for an hour. It will be easy as they will be sleeping anyway. Is it a double lesson?"

"No." Howell shook his head and he inclined his head in relief. "It's 45 minutes only. You know, whoever has made the lesson plans for this year, I don't understand it, not that any other year would be any better, you have a bug each year. But this time? Having the children at school for one single lesson after the noon break, that's just plain stupid, but well, we can't change it anyway, never mind how much we complain."

"Isn't Miss Davenport making the lesson plans?" He asked, frowning.

"No." Howell huffed at him. "Miss Davenport complains about the lesson plans she gets each year just as much as do we - with just as little effect."

"Very well, I'll overtake your class." He said, not liking it, but he knew that the appointment was important. They needed to get Harry out of there, and soon. "Any particular subject?" He asked.

"I have several worksheets on my desk." He said. "That will allow you to look in on your raccoons once in a while. Just leave the door open and then they know to better be silent."

"With their teacher and the headmistress gone?" He asked, his eyebrow raised. "I don't think so."

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"I won't!" A boy in the front row said the moment he entered Howell's classroom and he frowned. "I've never managed and I won't pass tomorrow either. I just hate geography and this bloody essay is just as stupid."

"My mom always says that if you _believe _you can do something, then you'll be able doing it." The boy beside the first one answered and taking the worksheet from the desk he read through them shortly. Geometry, circles and ellipses. "You'll just need an opening for your essay and then the rest of it will be easy. The first sentence is always the hardest."

Well, that boy definitely had a point and at least they were talking about school related things until their lessons started - something Hogwarts students should learn from, because there the subjects before the start of lessons surely was anything else than school related. But well, school related things or not, this was math and not geography.

"What's _your _opening sentence?" The first boy said, just when he approached the two.

"I'll start with _'the Mount Etna is a very active volcano that just last year had another enormous erection'_." The boy answered and he stopped mid-step, having to fight hard to not laugh out loud at the seriousness the boy brought up the wrong wording. Merlin! What had he gotten himself into! One could clearly see that they were primary schoolers. A volcano that had an erection instead of an eruption.

"If you start your essay with this particular sentence, Mr. Mason, then I'm sure that it will be a very entertaining essay for your teacher, more so if you should happen to explain the several steps of the volcano's activity, but at the same time it will definitely have your marks in geography dropping as it is not an erection but an eruption you should write about." He said the moment he could be sure that he had himself back under control, leaning with both his hands onto the tabletop and piercing the boy with his dark eyes - who watched him back with very large eyes himself. "And now I suggest you take these worksheets and hand it out to your classmates."

"Squares!" The boy groaned upon looking at the sheets, sighing a suffering sigh. "I hate math just as much as I hate geography."

"Those are circles." He frowned down at the boy who got up to hand the worksheets over to his fellow students, wondering if there was any subject the boy didn't hate.

"A circle is just a round square anyway." The boy shrugged and now it was him, inwardly groaning. Merlin! What a mess - and what a lucky man he was, not having to teach third grade generally but highschool students - except of this year, that was, but well, if he liked admitting it or not, he was rather proud of his raccoons anyway. They weren't as bad.

Noticing one of the children drawing a line with his pencil, taking another pencil as a ruler, he approached the table, scowling down at the boy that was misusing his equipment.

"Care to explain what you are doing?" He asked, scowling down at the boy.

"I'm drawing a line, sir." The boy answered, clearly not understanding where the problem lay.

"Using - or rather, _mis_using - your pencil as a ruler?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow.

"Well, yes." The boy said. "Mr. Howell doesn't like it if we draw lines by hand."

"And where, pray tell, is your ruler you normally should use for such a task, Mr. - Henson?" He asked, after reaching out and turning the boy's notebook to look at the name on the front.

"Uhm, well." The boy made, blinking at him. "I forgot it, at home."

"You forgot." He said, taking a deep breath. "And what are you doing in the first place? You are to do a circle in your first task, not a line."

"Uhm, well … that _is_ a circle." The boy answered, looking up at him sheepishly.

"Very well, Mr. Henson, then I ask you to draw the circle from a bird's-eye view, not from the side." He smirked down at the boy who sighed.

"I can't." The boy said, shaking his head.

"And _why_ - are you unable to?" He asked, very well knowing the answer already.

"I have no compasses." The boy then said.

"And why ever not, boy?" He asked, his eyebrow lifted.

"Forgot them." The boy answered, rather meekly now. "At home."

"Is there anything you have not forgotten - at home - except of the pencils you are using - and _mis_using?" He scowled. He really was lucky that he was working at a boarding school generally, his students didn't forget things - or at least, they didn't forget more than once. "Well, then ask your neighbour, and next time I expect you to have your equipment with you as such disturbances are not only slowing down yourself but your classmates just as well. Should I ever hear that you have forgotten your things again, then it will be detention."

There was a quick nod and the boy turning to his neighbour who scowled at the other boy and he could hear something like - _'not again, you're always forgetting things and then asking for mine.'_

"What the fucking hell are you … keep your fucking finger out of my ass or you …"

"Language, Mr. Clayton." He said, approaching the desk in the back of the classroom. He didn't even have to look for the student's name on his workbook as one look into the fair face with the golden blond hair and the sky blue eyes showed that this boy was a brother of Isabelle Clayton, the cat-loving girl in his class. Well, if you took the nearly painful sweetness of the girl in his class, then it was startling, the boy's language and he only could hope that the girl would never end up at this point. "Your sweet looks are definitely belied by your bad language, Mr. Clayton and I suggest that you change that - _this instant_ - or you will end up scrubbing my classroom downstairs in the pre-school wing."

"This fucking idiot has …"

"Say what you want to say in proper language or don't say anything at all, Mr. Clayton." He hissed, leaning down at the boy.

"Eddy, that _less-intelligent student_, has smeared ink all over my paper!" The boy growled angrily, not backing away from him and looking down at the parchment he noticed that the worksheet was already done - and perfectly so.

"And how exactly did this happen, Mr. - _Eddy_?" He asked the other boy, ignoring Clayton for now.

"I didn't mean it." This boy said, defending himself. "I just wanted to change the ink cartridge because my pen didn't work anymore, but when I pulled the cartridge out, the ink splattered all over Benny's sheet. I just wanted to clean it."

"After two years of working with a pen, I'm sure that you should know by now - you cannot clean ink away without an ink eraser." He drawled, taking a deep breath. "Not another word, both of you! Just go on with your work. Mr. Clayton, I will write a note on your sheet so that Mr. Howell knows that this mess was not created by you. Just go and take a different worksheet from the desk and try to solve those tasks as well as you have solved these."

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"Very well." He said after forty minutes of watching the third grade class. "Mr. Henson, I expect you to write an essay about your equipment belonging into your schoolbag - why, what will happen if it isn't and what you will do to solve the problem. Mr. Clayton, I expect you to write an essay about using proper language - why it is important, why you should not use bad language and what you will do to work on it. Mr. - _Eddy _- I expect you to write an essay about the proper use of a pen and ink cartridges, how to change them without creating a mess and what you could do to avoid something like that again. And finally, Miss Winslow, I expect an essay of you about why chewing bubblegum, and writing letters to other girls during class is not only disrespectful but also keeping you and your fellow students from learning - and what you will do to make it better in future. All your essays will be handed in to me by next week on Monday morning. I am sure you all will be able finding my classroom. Class dismissed."

Merlin!

What a lucky man he was, having the raccoons instead of this bunch of students.

Just a month ago he actually had thought that he would prefer his students at Hogwarts, eleven to seventeen year old teenagers. And now he was preferring his four year old toddlers. Merlin! What had become of him?

Well, a pre-school, teacher had become of him, and he didn't even care about it.

Entering his classroom, silently, he cast a quick glance through the room.

Gwendolyn was sitting at his desk, reading a book, and for a moment his heart skipped a beat when he noticed _what_ exact book that woman was reading - the book about Arthemius, the one book with notes in them, with a foreword written by a wizard and - Merlin!

_'dear Severus,_

_I know that Christmas holidays at a boarding school, even though it is a wizarding academy, can be very boring. We're just sorry that we can't invite you for the holidays like all the other years, but seeing that we're leaving England for Christmas to visit Lily's grandparents, that won't be possible. We've asked Dumbledore of course, with his permission we could have taken you through the international floo network, but he told us that you better didn't leave the country. Lily has been very upset about that, she's even resorted to call Dumbledore names and her father had to play the bad guy, telling her off, imagine. But well, you know Lily's temper._

_However, I know that your parents won't sent you anything, and so we do - in other words don't even think of not opening the presents, Severus Snape, or you'll get into trouble with our daughter the moment she's back at school. I hope you'll enjoy the book, it's the wizarding counterpart of Cinderella which your mother surely has read to you when you've been little. _

_Happy Christmas, child_

_Enjoy your holidays_

_Rose, Florian, Lily, Petunia'_

Steeling himself for whatever might come he entered the classroom and softly closed the door behind him, approaching Gwendolyn who looked up at him with a smile on her face, watching her with narrowed eyes while trying to find out how much of anything else than the original story she'd been reading.

"I hope you didn't have too much trouble with the third grades, now that you're used to the _toddlers_ instead of pre-teenagers and teens." The bloody woman smiled, clearly teasing him.

"No, I have managed." He answered. "Even though four of them got an essay to write until next Monday and even though Mr. Mason has nearly driven me mad with his lack of understanding when it comes to geometrical forms. And geography." He then added while shaking his head.

"If I'm not mistaken, then Gordon complained about _that_ too." Gwendolyn said, closing the book and getting off the chair behind his desk, placing the book at the tabletop and there was no sign of her having noticed anything strange.

"I do thank you for looking after my raccoons, Gwendolyn." He said, slowly calming down. "I hope _you_ didn't have any trouble with those little monsters."

"Of course not." The woman laughed. "On the contrary. I've finally managed to get my hands on your book about the Cinderella boy. I love it, Severus, and I really would like having a copy of it."

"Well, maybe I could manage one for you." He said, still trying to find out more without Gwendolyn noticing. "Harry did sleep through?"

"Yes, he didn't wake, neither when David lay down beside him and even took his hand nor when I started reading the story. You should have seen that, it's been really cute, David taking Harry's hand."

"He's done that yesterday already." He said. "I think he knows that Harry is very ill and he tries to give comfort. David has been in a similar situation after all and he knows what it means. What I have noticed however, is Warren looking at Harry strangely lately, and not only since yesterday when Harry came to school so badly beaten, but since last week already, since the ruckus Dursley had caused, and I have no explanation for that."

"Harry has been very scared back then, hasn't he?" Gwendolyn asked and he nodded, sighing, glad that - apparently - the woman had noticed nothing strange in the book, most likely so very happy that she'd started reading the story without reading anything else that was written in it, nor the foreword. "And you have cared for him more since then than ever, most likely even having the child sitting on your lap and holding him, touching him, haven't you?"

"Of course I have." He growled, looking at the idiotically smiling woman with a dark scowl on his face. "I am a dark and a cold man and I am demanding, but I am not a completely heartless bastard and if there is any child so young, that is in pain or scared than the bloody thing should be comforted. And this bloody boy has wormed his way into my heart somehow, that horrifying devil!"

"And there you have the answer." Gwendolyn said, chuckling at his outburst. "The Blacksmiths are not from Little Whinging but from Sunbury. They changed schools when Warren's older brother had been touched in a very inappropriate way by one of his teachers at Sunbury high school and I'm sure that Warren, even though his parents had tried to keep it from their younger son, had learned one thing or another about it."

"That explains things." He said, slowly nodding his head. "But why do they have their children attending Little Whinging school then? Wouldn't Shepperton be closer ? I've heard that Shepperton has very excellent education institutions. And the same goes for Egham."

"Sure, but maybe it was a bit too close for their liking, I don't know the answer, Severus." Gwendolyn said. "Well, Warren's brother actually is attending Stonewall high school now, and he seems happy there. If I'm not too mistaken, then the Blacksmiths have planned on having Warren attending Stonewall too, after he'd finished primary school here in Little Whinging."

"I see." He said. "I will have a word with him."

"Are you sure that you should mention it to the boy?" Gwendolyn said, rather worried now and he raised his eyebrow.

"I won't allow any student of mine to hide from the truth." He growled. "It has happened to his brother and he has noticed things, and I will have him acknowledging it - only that way he can learn how to deal with it - otherwise it will eat on him inwardly when he gets older, always unable to speak about such things, unable to watch physical interactions between two people. And it won't get better with time, it only will get worse. Right now he won't understand physical interaction between a teacher and his student - in a few years he won't understand physical interactions with friends and one day he maybe won't understand physical interactions with family. I won't stand for that with one of my students, never mind how old - or young - this student is."

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Sighing he lay in his cupboard - again. But well, seeing that the cupboard was his room, it wasn't so strange that he was laying in it again.

Mr. Snape had been over for dinner tonight, again, and again he had told him in his dark and stern voice to eat, and to go to bed early, and strangely - uncle Vernon had done nothing, had just smirked as if he thought he were in trouble with his teacher and enjoyed it. But he hadn't been in trouble with his teacher, on the contrary. Mr. Snape had just made sure again that he got something to eat and that he could sleep.

He wondered how Mr. Snape knew that uncle Vernon would actually let him alone and to bed early whenever his teacher told him to do so in front of uncle Vernon - but on the other hand, it wasn't important. Important only was, that it happened, that Mr. Snape somehow seemed to know and then told him and that uncle Vernon allowed it without punishing him for it later. It was helping very much and where he had feared his teacher visiting his aunt and uncle in the beginning, he now wished that the man would visit every evening, even though he knew that Mr. Snape surely couldn't do such a thing.

Vernon Dursley at the same time was sitting in his living room, in front of the television, but he wasn't really watching what was played out on the screen. No, his thoughts rather were with one dark man with cold black eyes and a hard, menacing voice - with Severus Snape.

He really had gotten used to the idea of a male being the teacher to a kindergarten class, not only because he'd had enough time for getting used to it, but also because - well, because Severus was fitting into his opinions and into his believes too, but well, one really should think that a teacher for small children in pre-school would be a very kind and gentle person, never mind if male of female. But Severus was anything but.

He looked dangerous and his black eyes were cold and hard - he couldn't imagine why Davenport would hire a man like this, but well, she had, and it befitted him well, because he had noticed the man's black eyes glinting emotionally whenever he looked at the brat. Damn, he really would like to know the sadistic thoughts that might run through Severus' mind then and he _knew _that there were those thoughts on his mind.

Every other teacher would have long ago addressed him with the freak having gotten a good beating. Adams surely would have done so at the latest last week, but Severus hadn't, neither when he'd broken the freaks' fingers in the cupboard door last week nor when he'd punished him for soiling his trousers with the wine he would have liked drinking instead of being poured over his clothes. Severus hadn't said anything and he was sure that the man had seen. On the contrary.

Alone his sentence this evening during dinner.

_"Would you 'finally' sit down for dinner, Potter!"_ The man had growled at the boy. _"Or do you need detention for the duration of next week. I'm sure that you'll enjoy cleaning the classroom after your classmates have left for the evening."_

Well, Severus was a snarky sadist and so he knew, the man didn't coddle the freak. He'd been pleased enough with the situation and so he'd told Severus that he could give him detention every day if he needed someone for cleaning up his classroom - what had caused the man smirking at him happily.

Severus Snape, sitting at his kitchen table and looking over at number four, was taking a breath of relief the moment he noticed the last lights going off at number four, was thinking complete different lines than Vernon Dursley had, cursing the man to hell and back while trying to find a solution that would be fast and easy, without pulling more stress over the child he was worrying about than necessary.

This afternoon Harry had woken sometime during the other children's nap, after Gwendolyn had gone back to her own classroom, what had given him some short time to care for the child without the other children running around him. It was definitely the worst condition he'd ever seen the child in and he'd been seething with rage and fury, inwardly, trying to kep his shields up as good as possible, knowing that he would startle the child otherwise.

Well, he would do his best to get the child out of number four as soon as possible, even if that meant he had to abduct the child.

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_more plans to be made? or nothing but hot air? _…

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

640 - Gryffindor

613 - Slytherin

520 - Ravenclaw

306 - Hufflepuff


	22. deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs - whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_Severus Snape, sitting at his kitchen table and looking over at number four, taking a breath of relief the moment he noticed the last lights going off at number four, was thinking complete different lines than Vernon Dursley had, cusing the man to hell and back while trying to find a solution that would be fast and easy, without pulling more stress over the child he was worrying about than necessary. _

_This afternoon Harry had woken sometime during the other children's nap, after Gwendolyn had gone back to her own classroom, what had given him some short time to care for the child without the other children running around him. It was definitely the worst condition he'd ever seen the child in and he'd been seething with rage and fury, inwardly, trying to kep his shields up as good as possible, knowing that he would startle the child otherwise. _

_Well, he would do his best to get the child out of number four as soon as possible, even if that meant he had to abduct the child. _

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter twenty-two**

**Deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole**

What in Merlin's bloody name was wrong with the teachers on this damn school lately?

Yesterday he'd had to cover the third class in math because Howell had been visiting London police department - what had been a good thing actually and he gladly had covered the man's class so that he'd been able helping Harry's matters - and today Gwendolyn had to cover Weldon's class. For an hour only, while this time he'd had an eye - or rather an ear - on the squirrels while they were taking their nap, seeing that the hedgehogs were too - _'old'_ - for sleeping in the afternoon, they were no babies any more after all.

For a moment he even had thought of overtaking that particular class himself, seeing that one Dudley Dursley was a hedgehog after all, but well, of course he knew that he couldn't torture the boy, not to mention that it wasn't the boy's fault to begin with but Vernon Dursley's, that the child was not to be punished for his father's crimes. Well yes, he knew that the young Dursley had done enough, but he was sure, had he been raised with different parents, with parents less violent and abusive, with parents teaching him kindness and sense instead of cruelty and idiocy, then he would be a different boy now.

So, all in all, it was Vernon and Petunia Dursley's fault, never mind what.

However, one could dream, after all.

Of course he knew that Petunia too was walking a dangerous line - but honestly, she was the adult there, and it was in her obligation to care for the child she was entrusted with, especially as it was her sister's son, and to keep him safe on body and mind. But no, she didn't, she preferred living her own safe and rich life with Vernon Dursley whom she had married only Merlin knew why, and she wasn't ready to stand up to her husband once to help her nephew.

Yes, he remembered that the woman had asked him for an appointment, that there was the tea party for the parents he feignedly was planing together with Petunia Dursley so that he could have a word with her without Vernon Dursley noticing - but he had enough on his hands right now, and definitely more important things - like keeping the boy from as much harm as possible - than thinking on talking with that woman.

Of course he knew that it might not be easy for her with a husband like Vernon Dursley - but not only had it been her free will to marry him, she had chosen him, not Harry, but also was she the adult in this fiasco, and as the adult it was in her responsibility to care for the child, not the other way round. It was her duty to protect the child from a violent adult and if she was unable to, then it was her place to get the child out of the violent environment - in other words, out of the grasp of her husband.

She wasn't doing anything of that.

He didn't say that she surely hadn't kept Harry alive so far, that wihtout her help that boy surely had died long ago, had most likely not even seen through his first year at the Dursleys, but that didn't change the matter that it simply wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to keep a child barely alive but otherwise suffering and a person doing this wasn't much better than the person abusing the child.

He knew that maybe he was judging a bit harshly, but seeing the child getting worse each day now - Merlin, he didn't know if Dursley was plain stupid, if he was just a brutal bastard, if he actually was trying to kill the boy or if he was simply testing his - Severus' - limits or loyalties, because the man was clearly intensifying the abuse.

And honestly, if there wasn't a solution found during tonight's meeting, if the boy wouldn't be out of that household by the upcoming weekend, then he would take the child and flee England. He already had written a short note to a befriend Potions Master in Arabia, had asked for a short sanctuary until he had the situation under control and could either go back to England - or gain ground in Arabia. He knew that the Arabic wizarding society was different from the English, knew that they didn't work together well and therefore, it was less likely that they would hand him over to the Britain wizarding ministry.

And even though, he would have ways of fleeing again then.

Sure it wasn't too healthy for a child - not to mention a child that was unsure and scared due to child abuse and neglect in the first place, a child most likely already suffering from a serious abandonment issue - living a life on the run, always hiding and being driven out of yet another home, but he wouldn't watch this here any longer. He wouldn't - well, if you speak of the devil!

Two black hawks were sitting on the sill outside his window, one knocking its beak at the glass impatiently while the other waited patiently and he lifted an eyebrow at the animal while marching over to the window, opening it.

"Hello Arturo." He greeted the one black hawk that was immediately flying into the room and over to the sink where it tapped at the faucet. "Sharik." He then greeted the other one. "Not used to windows closed up with glass panels, are you?" He asked, trying to calm the animal that was flapping through the kitchen, wildly and clearly annoyed, or maybe just simply unhappy before landing on his outstreched lower arm, proudly - and with recognition in the dark beady eyes. It was Osama's hawk, he knew, the animal bringing the man's answer - one that either would safe the child's life or would doom both, Harry and him. He doubted however the second, knowing that man.

Alright, that was an exaggeration and he knew it, because he had other means of hiding, anyway his fingers shook slightly while he opened the scroll, because Osama surely was his first choice as the small settlement was well hidden in the desert mountains and he knew nearly all of the Arab's people.

He just wondered why the man had sent both birds, Arturo would have been able bringing the missive home himself, but he was happy to see Sharik, Arturo's brother, anyway. Arturo had been a farewell present from Osama, many years ago, when he had left to come back to England and now he carried Sharik over to the sink, where his own bird was already waiting for him to open the tap and fill a bowl with water for them.

Osama was a Potions Master a few years older than him, whom he had met back then, when he'd studied the subject himself. They both had been to St. Mungos in London - although Osama had always called them 'The London Healing Halls' - to become healers as was required when becoming a Potions Master, and they soon had become friends, Osama being as sarcastic as was he, just not as dark - or cold, even though the man had surely the same temper, if not a worse one. However, both of them had kept in contact during their studies and Osama had even moved in with him for about a year during his practical year he had to absolve in a foreign country. On the ohter hand Severus had decided to do his practicals in Saudi Arabia and had moved in with Osama for his year outside of England.

Of course he could have chosen a more comfortable institution like in New York, Peking or Tokio, or maybe in Oslo or in Berlin, in Vienna even - but instead he had chosen Riad to study for his year of foreign potions, having moved in with Osama upon his invitation and they even had done their exams together. It had been that one year of his life that had left a few deep imprints - that had provided him with memories which were worth nearly his entire life. Memories of fun, of happiness, of laugher and of - kindness, of friendship. He had been important to Osama and Osama had been important to him - and he had been accepted in the wizarding settlement of Albayon, he had been accepted by all of them.

And Osama, he had been the first person to think of when asking for help outside his own wizarding - and muggle - environment.

Taking a deep breath he opened the scroll and with a wave of his wand he gave the code that was required for the other man's writing to become legible before he started reading.

_'Severus,_

_you shame me with asking for permission on such. _

_Take your son and come here, you both will have not only mine but my entire tribe's protection. You are known to my people and you are familiar with the surroundings here. We have a simple but large potions laboratory deep beneath the Albayan meanwhile, and a small school. What we lack however is a healer as the only healer and Potions Master within the tribe is me. It would be nice to share some of the work so that I can care for other necessary things like leading my tribe, for example._

_I know that you are a proud man, Severus Tobias Snape, but you see, you would not live on charity but had work, important work, and I would gladly welcome you and your son as members of the tribe. I guess you still remember Mushtak? The boy was with me when your missive came and even though he was very sad over your need to flee England, he was very happy to welcome you here, he missed you. _

_It also was good to see Arturo again, you have kept your friend in good health and he seemed very happy, despite the long way he had to travel. I will send Sharik with him as this bloody bird won't leave Arturo's side for now, I guess those two bloody birds need some time together. _

_You have spoken of a turkish wizard who didn't know his magical heritage. _

_It is not so strange. Turkey, as well as Syria, Iran, Iraq, Pakistan and Afghanistan - and many other of the smaller middle east regions, would have razed any respective wizarding tribes to the ground in the past, man, woman and child, and so no wizard had dared admitting his heritage openly for many hundreds of years - and now that they would accept wizarding society, many of their children who are adults by now and have children of their own don't even know anymore that they have magical abilities. Often not even their parents have known for many generations now._

_Long story short, Severus, I expect you here in the Albayan upon the next few days, I take it you still know the coordinates._

_Kind regards_

_Osama Abd al-Yasu ibn Quasim ibn Rashid Albayan'_

Alright, that was one problem solved.

He was a bit startled upon Osama expecting him soon and never mind what. In his letter he had told him that he _maybe _would need a hiding place, not for sure, that it depended on the London and on the wizaring authorities and their quick handling in the situation, that he only would take this step as a last resort as he would like to spare the boy a life on the run. What had also startled him was the fact that Osama already addressed the boy as his son, he had made it clear in his missive that he intended on adopting the boy but couldn't do so before the situation was solved. But then, well, he knew Osama, and he also knew that the man simply had been overwhelmed with happiness. He should have known.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Never before had he had to deal with an epidemic of the flu that was so - easy. His upstairs meeting room was overfilled with people having the flu, but no one was sneezing, no one was caughing and no one had a fever or a running nose, quite comfortable, he had to admit that. The subject they were however about to discuss, was less comfortable and surely less harmless.

"During your visit, you have spoken of neglect, doctor Carrington." He calmly said after they all had arrived at the man's house. They were now sitting in the rather large hallway of the first floor, a space that seemed to serve as a _'room'_ for discussions with more than two or three people, lined with bookshelves, toys and other things. "You better know that the neglect is the least of our problems however, as I would be able to balance this with meals I deliver to the child, with rest and with care. Take however rightout and brutal child abuse, and then you get closer to the truth. And Dursley seems to step up in the abuse lately, surely trying to test my limits - or my loyalties - as for now he seems to take me for a - _friend _- as much as it pains me to just _think_ of such a term regarding this bastard. I would kill him without hesitation if I knew that it were not Harry who suffered from the consequences of my actions."

There were a lot of flowers he recognized from his potions making, flowers that were not dangerous, and there were a lot of pictures on the walls, children's pictures. The rooms were lined with carpets and he noticed that there was more than one room that was equipped to fit children, holding children's books and toys, as did the hallways - so he guessed that this medic was taking more regard to children than most others did.

"How bad?" Carrington asked and his already serious face had gotten darker even.

"Think of the worst and you only have half the truth." He growled. "There have been no broken bones so far - even though his fingers surely had been clearly caught in a door a few days ago and he is lucky for not having broken them, but the child is not only green and blue but spots open welts too. I have him resting during class as much as possible, laying on his mattress for the lessons even so that he can save some much needed energy and I provide him with food, with pain relievers, and with at least the minimum of medical attention, seeing that I cannot do too much or Dursley would get suspicious if the boy came home in a better condition than he had left in the morning. However, I am more than just slightly worried."

"Why have you never come to visit me, Mr. Snape?" Carrington asked and he huffed at the man.

"Why should I have trusted you, Carrington?" He growled darkly. "You wouldn't be the first corrupt person in this bloody place."

"Do forgive Professor Snape, Doctor Carrington." Miss Harvest shook her head and he huffed again, this time at the woman, causing a soft chuckle from Tyüen whom he regarded with a dark scowl in answer. "He is not one of the most trusting people, but seeing that he is working together with me for years now, I know that he only means the best. He is working with abused children since long now and I trust him fully - even with his medical abilities and judgement on any situation."

He glared at the woman but chose to keep silent for now.

"No offense taken, don't worry." Carrington said. "I see your point, _Professor_ Snape, and yes - better safe than sorry in a place like Little Whinging. Anyway, I would like to see the child as soon as possible."

"Tomorrow morning would be a good time." He answered, having already known that the medic would ask for that.

"The question is - what can we do to help little Harry without endangering him any more?" Miss Davenport asked.

"That depends on the London authorities." Snape said, looking expectantly over to Harvest and the man that had come with Howell.

"Well, we already have appointed a date for an inspection of the Little Whinging police department." The man that had been introduced to them as inspector Garland said. "Is there any way that in the meantime one of you could get the boy out of the house officially?"

"What would offically consist?" He huffed at the man. "I could organize a - let me name it _'sleep-over'_, as much as such a thing pains me - but I only can do such a thing for one night and I should know which night exactly would be the most appropriate time for the boy being out of the house in your opinion."

"As I told you, Mr. Snape, I cannot give you a time." Garland said.

"And you call this - _cooperation_?" He snarled angrily. "What is this bloody meeting for if you state half-truths, keep secrets and don't trust the others with information that could safe the child we have gathered to speak about!"

"Trust is something very dangerous in times and places like this, Professor Snape." Garland softly said. "I understand your frustration, but if one of the present people gave away one wrong word, then all our efforts would have been for naught and the child could be in mortal danger."

"Then just give out an order to get the child out of the house!" He hissed at the man angrily, slowly but surely losing his patience.

"And have him back in the house as soon as the Dursleys have back their claim of being innocent - what they will get within the hour if we handle the situation the wrong way around, that would be the same as if you put the cart before the horse." Garland said. "I can understand your frustration, Professor, but we have to gather all evidence we can get first, not only on the Dursleys but on Stabler and his cronies too, as well as on some people on the board and the authorities. We have to get them simultanously, and if only one of them slips through our fingers, then we are running danger of losing everything."

"You seem to not understand." He growled darkly. "Because it is not you who has to see the child suffering every day."

"Not _this_ child, Professor, no." Garland said, suddenly sounding very tired. "But I do see other children that are treated as badly as is yours, and never mind who the child is, it always is evil. I _do _know what you feel."

"He's not my child, you -" He hissed, barely able to keep himself from calling the man an inappropriate name. How dare he, naming Potter as his child!

"What about simple abduction?" Carrington asked, nearly chuckling, and he narrowed his eyes at the man. Could it be that the muggle healer had been playing with the same thought as had he? He would have to speak with him about it, because if the man was doing something stupid without a real plan, then he only would endanger the child, not to mention the emotional strain he would subject the boy to.

"I spoke of a _legal _way, Doc Joe." Garland sighed. "As much as I'd like your way of thinking."

"Miss Harvest?" He asked, giving his attention to the woman. "Any news at child welfare?"

"We have started to check the house, but as we have to be very careful, only being able to work on disguise, it's slow going." The woman said. "Regrettably I have to agree with Mr. Garland on this, as much as I hate it, Professor Snape. We will have to get our hands on the authorities, the Dursleys, and the police department at the same time and we cannot risk anything or we might sign Mr. Potter's death warrant."

"You do not speak of - The-Boy-Who-Lived, Miss Harvest?" He asked, his eyes narrowed at the woman.

"What exactly are you accusing me of, Professor?" She asked back, her own eyes a cold glare. "I am speaking of Mr. Harry Potter, a five year old child and not about what Albus Dumbledore might see in him. You should know me better than that."

"My apology." He inclined his head. "You just sounded like that old fool for a moment."

"May I ask what you are speaking of, Professor? Miss Harvest?" Garland asked, looking from one to the other.

"Mr. Potter is already registered as a student at the Hathaway academy, a very noble and expensive academic institution which his parents already have attended - and paid for, a private school with only the best of teachers - one of them Professor Snape himself." Elsa answered, glaring at him, causing him to glare back. "And seeing as his parents had been very popular at the school, even in later years after their graduation, their son of course has a particular status in several circles."

"Couldn't those people get the boy out of the Dursleys' hands?" Carrington asked, sounding hopeful and he sighed.

"Sadly - no." Severus answered. "The Dursleys have legal guardianship over the boy, they have sole custody and as long as we cannot proof sever child neglect and child abuse, we cannot do anything to get the boy out of there."

"What about a school camp?" Garlad asked. "A week would suffice."

"That would work with one of the primary school classes." Howell answered, shaking his head. "But not with the pre-schoolers."

"Not to mention that - Harry's cousin hadn't been to a school camp in his second year, he would throw a tantrum if Potter were to go and the Dursleys would neither allow it, nor would they keep from punishing the boy for causing - _trouble_." He growled.

"And we should consider that anything we do, it has to be done quickly." Davenport said. "A school camp has to be announced months before it happnes so that the parents could prepare not only their children and anything that they might need but the money for such an outing too, that wouldn't do for little Harry."

"I will continue offering the Dursleys to take the boy as often as possible." He said. "But neither will this work forever, nor does it solve the problem in the first place. The boy's condition is already bad, very bad, and it worsens at a daily rate. We have no more time."

"What do we do if the boy dies before a solution is found?" Howell growled at them and again he was thankful for the man, being at least one of the bunch acknowledging the seriousness of the situation.

"Could that be a possibilitiy?" Garland asked, looking over at him and he inclined his head.

"Definitely." He answered. "I have told you that I am more than slightly worried. The boy's health is poor as it is without the daily beatings and it is worsening at a daily basis now. To speak plain, inspector Garland, and to give you a number - If Dursley continues the way he has started out lately then I'd say a week in that household if Dursley continues the way he treats Harry currently, maybe two at the most, and then I won't be able to help him anymore. Knowing Dursley however, and the rate he's stepping up in the abuse, I'd say even less than that."

Well, he would wait until the weekend, he would prepare things, and then he would take the boy first thing on Sunday afternoon and apparate to France first, then to Spain, to Algeria, Libya, Egypt, and finally, to Saudi-Arabia. He would like to travel all the way to his destination in one go, but he knew that a five year old child wouldn't be able handling such an intercontinental apparition, not to mention a child as weak as Harry meanwhile was. He knew that he also would have to take pauses between each apparition, and he guessed that it would be a trip that would take him at least five or six hours with a child that most likely would be sick with the apparition.

He would have to pack spare clothes something to drink, some of his potions and maybe a book or two to distract the boy.

For a moment he even considered changing Harry's name, considered even faking the boy's ID card - if he even had such a thing, what he however doubted. As a regular wizarding child living in a regular wizarding community like he'd done with his parents, it hadn't been necessary to have an ID card, and later on the Dursleys surely had never cared about any passport or such things for the boy. They would never take him to a holiday anyway, rather placing him with neighbours and -

"Mr. Snape?" Doc Carrington's voice got him out of his thoughts. "Professor?"

"I've just been thinking." He explained his absence of mind.

"About what, if I may ask?" Garland asked. "_Any_ idea could be helpful after all."

"About how meaningless this meeting is, inspector." He huffed at the man.

"I cannot help but agreeing with the Professor." Tyüen said, leaning back in his chair. "Seven adult people we are, private _and_ from several different authorities, and yet we cannot help one little child that is in grave danger. I don't think that we do our best in regards to little Harry."

"What do you expect me to do?" Garland asked, clearly frustrated himself. "We are all walking very dangerous lines."

"Have either the Little Whinging police department inspected soon, very soon, preferrably tomorrow, or allow us to - like doctor Carrington has suggested - _inofficially_ abduct the boy." Tyüen answered.

"You have a daughter of your own, Mr. Tyüen, you should not risk such a thing, you could loose the girl if you did something stupid." Garland said, huffing at the man and he had to admit that at least in _this_ Garland was correct. "If the boy were to be kidnapped, then the kidnapper would have to best leave the country, and as quickly as possible after the kidnapping, what won't be too easy as you would need a passport for the boy at any airport. We are living on an island after all, and leaving quickly with a kidnapped child would be a challenge."

"But managable." He growled. "What if there were someone who could do it?" He asked. "What if there were someone who could leave the country with the child, someone influential who had money and friends? Would this person have your support?"

"Surely not openly." Garland said honestly, leaning with his elbows on his knees. "But I would of course do what was in my power to keep things as slow going as possbile. Anyway it isn't a thought I like in the first place."

"Well, better that than watching a child dying." He growled. "We however agree with - it should be a person that holds no responsibility over any child that would have to suffer the consequences of their caretaker, what rules you out, Mr. Tyüen." He then added, agreeing with Garland's earlier words, not ready yet to give away the little fact that Tyüen and he already had met on the subject, therefore using the man's family name.

"And you too, Gordon." Davenport addressed Howell. "As well as you, Severus."

"Why me?" He asked, growling at the woman. "To my knowledge I do not have children."

"Because little Harry will need you the moment this all is over." She said and he sighed, knowing that she was correct. "The boy is desperately clinging to you, is needing you, and if you get yourself into prison, then you won't help the boy. He depends on you, and he's seeing you as a parental figure. You need to be there for him."

"I see." He said, inclining his head while secretly knowing that he wouldn't keep from taking the little monster if a solution wasn't found until the weekend - what wasn't so far away anymore, seeing that it was already Thursday evening, after all.

"Well, I could do it." Carrington said. "I sure do have a few connections and I have no children."

Hmm, yes - let the others believing in Carrington doing the abduction. He would have a word with him later.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"You think he'll come, dad?" Mushtak asked, barely able to sit still and inwardly he sighed while he called himself to patience upon the same question being asked for the thousandth time in just fourty-eight hours.

"I don't know, Mushtak." He calmly answered. "Why don't you start on your essay about nocturnal insects and their uses in potions."

"Because it's stupid." The boy said and he furrowed his brows at his son. "Teacher Aslam won't notice anyway. I don't like school, and I hate potions."

"Then you will be a very unhappy boy the moment your godfather is here, Mushtak, because he will be a teacher that notices your essays being not done - or not done to his satisfaction."

"You won't ask uncle Severus to be our teacher, will you, dad?" The boy asked, shocked, and he knew - Mushtak knew very well that Severus, as nice as he was to the boy, and as much as he loved the boy, was a very strict man that wouldn't allow any excuses.

"Of course I will." He answered, shaking his head. "Teacher Aslam is no Potions Master and so we do lack a good potions teacher and a healer and I have planned asking your godfather to overtake both."

"But Teacher Aslam is teaching us in _everything_." His son complained. "Why would we need a second teacher?"

"Because that would allow teacher Aslam a bit of time to take a breath, and now you go and write your essay, you little imp." He said, knowing why it was that Severus Snape didn't like children. Just the more it would be an interesting story, how he had come to become the father of a five year old child, because last he had met the man - and that had not been five years in the past - he hadn't had any children even though he'd already been a teacher.

Leaning back in his armchair he took a deep breath, watching his son sulking away while starting on his essay and he was happy to have a bit of peace.

"Where will uncle Severus live, dad?" Came the next question just a few minutes later and he sighed. He should have known that it would come, the boy had not allowed him five minutes since Severus' letter had come two days ago. "I could give him my room, you think that will do for him and his son?"

"I'm sure your godfather will be much more happy about a small house of his own." He answered, pulling the boy close, knowing that the bloody brat wouldn't start with his essay today anyway - clearly, he was too nervous for that - and he, Osama, was too docile. "I will give the empty house near the hall to him, there he can live in peace with his son, and without having you hovering in his doorway at every breath he takes."

"What will that son of his be like?" Mushtak asked, actually hopping up and down on his lap until he had the brat - that wasn't a brat anymore anyway but a twelve year old boy in his second year of education - standing back on the floor.

"I don't know as I haven't met him yet." He said, turning the boy and giving him a little shove and a swat on his behind. "And now you go and pester your mother in the backyard, you little monster, so that I have a few minutes of rest to think."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_another day - another carton of milk _

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

626 - Gryffindor

588 - Slytherin

509 - Ravenclaw

300 - Hufflepuff


	23. cartons of milk

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs - whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_"Where will uncle Severus live, dad?" Came the next question just a few minutes later and he sighed. He should have known that it would come, the boy had not allowed him five minutes since Severus' letter had come two days ago. "I could give him my room, you think that will do for him and his son?"_

_"I'm sure your godfather will be much more happy about a small house of his own." He answered, pulling the boy close, knowing that the bloody brat wouldn't start with his essay today anyway - clearly, he was too nervous for that - and he, Osama, was too docile. "I will give the empty house near the hall to him, there he can live in peace with his son, and without having you hovering in his doorway at every breath he takes."_

_"What will that son of his be like?" Mushtak asked, actually hopping up and down on his lap until he had the brat - that wasn't a brat anymore anyway but a twelve year old boy in his second year of education - standing back on the floor._

_"I don't know as I haven't met him yet." He said, turning the boy and giving him a little shove and a swat on his behind. "And now you go and pester your mother in the backyard, you little monster, so that I have a few minutes of rest to think."_

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter twenty-three**

**Cartons of milk**

It was Friday morning - and it was a promising day … promising to be a very long and tiring day.

First thing this morning had been doctor Carrington - or doc Joe, as he was called in Little Whinging and even beyond the village's borders - visiting pre-school the moment he had arrived with Little Harry. They - the members of the meeting from the evening before - had decided that it was best if there was an official examination of the boy, done by a medical practitioner, and so doctor Carrington had come in the morning to do the job - and had been shocked.

But well, he'd told the man that it the boy was in a very bad shape.

Harry himself, well, he'd had to hold the boy on his lap to keep him calm.

New bruises had been seen on the small body, again, and the child's mental condition was worsening from day to day now too, as well as his strength and his level of general fear. There was barely a chance for any speaking lessons anymore as the child barely spoke at all, not that he thought them important right now. He rather had the child laying on his mattress, resting, or was holding him in his arms - like right now.

**Flashback**

_Again - there was no "don't wanna" or "leave me 'lone" or any other word of protest coming from the child he was holding in his arms, not even a shaking of the boy's head - only the silent squirming and struggling from a frightened child that had learned to not voice his objections, pains and fears, until the small body gave in and leaned against him, small fingers clutching on his shirt while silent sobs were shaking the child. _

_Except of the few reassuring words coming from Carrington's explanations of what he was to do, the muggle medic was silent while he, Severus kept up a steady stream of spoken words. He had made sure that Carrington knew - if he healed the boy too much, and if he bandaged his injuries, then he only would get the child into more trouble with his uncle - most likely even thwarting his, Severus' plans with the child by losing Dursley's trust_

_He could however see howe difficult it was for the man to not doing just this. _

_"I'll only take a look, Harry, I promise." The man said while he shifted the child in his arms so that Carrington could pull down the trousers and underwear, something he'd not dared back then, when having a closer look at the child together with Cassandra Davenport. "I won't touch you, Harry, you have my word, I'd just like to have a look so I know what we have to think about, alright?"_

_Idiot man!  
Did he really expect to get a nod from the boy? Of course not, and the small body in his arms apparently again trying to gather some last remaining strength to squirm away when the man pulled the underwear down too, he had known that it would come. _

_"Hush, child." He softly whispered while gently tightening the grip on the small form in his arms, while trying to send as much reassurance and a sense of safety over to the child, trying to keep him as calm as possible. "I'm here, and I won't go away. You're safe, and you're doing really, really great, child. I'm very proud of you. It will be over in a moment, and then you might sleep, and until then you're safe in my arms. I won't release you, I promise, I won't abandon you."_

**End flashback**

Well, despite trying his best in calming the child and giving as much comfort as possible, the boy's sobs had become heavier and heavier, and even after Carrington had finished his examinations little Harry hadn't stopped crying, had been clinging to him with his small fists in a desperate grip, so tightly, he didn't know where the small child had taken the strength from for such a tight grip - at least he hadn't been able to place the boy on the mattress at any time soon and so he'd kept the boy on his lap until not only he'd fed him with a few spoonfuls of yoghurt, but until he'd fallen asleep too.

Shortly after that the other children had arrived, most of them being used to the sight of Harry sleeping in his arms meanwhile, and so they all had started a normal kindergarten morning routine while Harry had slept on until an hour or two into the morning.

He was going through the several colours with the children today, having them naming some colors and asking them for the letters in the word - the startling thing was, that most of the children knew at least one letter the word contained - and still he had the boy sitting in his lap, leaning with his upper body against his chest, sleeping.

The morning hadn't been too easy after Harry had woken. The boy had been still scared, most likely in some remaining pain too, despite the pain reliever he'd gotten, and he'd been clinging to him desperately, sometimes even sobbing softly into his shirt and he had run his hand up and down the small and bony back, trying to calm him as good as possible. Then there had been Warren, who - again - had been watching him and Harry in a strange way, and now that he knew the reason, he had addressed the child with the subject.

**Flashback**

_"Warren?" He softly asked and the boy looked up at him questioningly, most likely unaware of his own actions. He doubted that the boy knowingly distrusted him, the entire situation with his brother and now him, his kindergarten teacher having one of the children sitting on his lap, most likely being only somewhere in the depth of his mind, hidden. _

_"Just because your brother has been touched by a teacher in an improper way does not mean that any teacher will do the same." He said, refusing to beat around the bush. He had never done so, and he would not start doing so now. "You will need to be careful, always, instead of trusting blindly, but do not show distrust at every turn you take, that would complicate your life very much. You will need to find a middle way, Warren, between being careful, and being able meeting people without fear. I will not harm Harry, nor will I touch him in any way that would harm him. I am just trying to comfort him like your father would comfort you, or like you would comfort your own children the moment you were an adult and have children of your own."_

_"But you're not Harry's father." The boy had pointed out, causing Harry to look up at him. _

_"No, I am not." He had said, increasing the pressure his hand had on the small boy's back and shoulder to erase any doubts in Harry. "But Harry doesn't have a father who would comfort him and so I am doing this for him right now." Of course he knew how dangerous it was what he was doing, knowing that the children could tell their parents about it any day, knowing that one or another of those parents could tell the Dursleys any day, but that was a risk he had to take if he wanted the child, Harry, to trust him - what would make the kidnapping he was planning so much easier than if he had to carry away a screaming and squirming and struggling child._

_Of course he didn't know if he would carry out the kidnapping at all, that depended on several other things - and people. Maybe everything would go alright and they would go back to the wizarding world, or they would stay here until Severus had finished the year as a pre-school teachers. As much as the thought of it had horrified him, it did not shock him anymore and he actually was playing with the thought of staying with Harry in Little Whinging, at number seven. Or maybe he would rent a house at Wisteria Walk to get the boy away from Privet Drive. He didn't know yet. _

**End flashback**

Well, Warren had still looked at him and Harry after that, but it hadn't been with such a strange look anymore but with an understanding look and there even was a small smile on the boy's face now.

However, and then there had been the story-reading and the nap - it had been a rather interesting challenge, he had to admit that, because Harry had still been clinging to him desperately, not ready to release him - or rather his shirt, his neck, his arms, whatever the child could get a hold at whenever he tried to put the boy down. So he had been reading the story with Harry leaning against his chest, holding the book in one hand while his other hand was holding the boy on his lap safely, having one eye on the book and the other eye on the carton of milk the child was holding clumsily in his small and bruised fingers, making sure to catch the offending thing should the child lose his grip on the carton.

The little fiend had fallen asleep on him soon and he had placed the carton at the sideboard behind him while reading, shifting the sleeping boy into a more comfortable position - not for him, but for the child - and the moment all of the other children had fallen asleep finally, he had summoned Harry's blanket, wrapping the small form into the bloody soft thing while still holding him. Whatever reason for, he hadn't been ready to put him onto the mattress, and he had cursed the disobedient little brat for his curling him around his fingers.

The boy - still in his arms - running his tongue over his lips caused him to look down and a moment later he reached back and took Harry's carton of milk from the sideboard. He gently pried the child's fingers from his shirt and placed the cartons into the small hands.

It wasn't seldom that one of the children had milk left in his or her carton to drink it in the afternoon, and so there was no jealousy when the boy leaned back, his head resting against his chest and taking slow sips of his remaining milk, the small fingers for once not clinging to his shirt, or wrist, or fingers - but to the carton of milk again, the square carton clearly causing some trouble for the child as the small fingers were thin and weak to begin with - not to mention bruised and clumsily - and he again, placed one of his hands above his boy's hands. Just to steady them so that the carton wouldn't fall, creating a mess on the floor.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Harry leaned back against Mr. Snape's chest, taking all the comfort he could get as long as it lasted, because he knew, in a few hours he would have to go back to his family again, to uncle Vernon again, and uncle Vernon was very angry with him lately.

He sighed, while looking down at the blue and white carton, he was trying to hold and he was glad for his teacher's hand on his hand, because the carton was nearly too heavy for him and his hands hurt, and his arms got tired too, but Mr. Snape's hand was steadying his hands and his arms didn't get so heavy anymore. The lower half of the carton was blue, what started with a 'B', that was for bear, and for boat, and for the buttons on a coat. Not on _his_ coat though, because he didn't have a coat, except fo the one his teacher had given him for playing outside during school, but this one didn't have buttons but a zipper. Well, and the upper half of the carton was white like the milk in it, and was dripping down to the blue part of the carton, like real milk would. And then there was the word Milk in blue letters written on the white of the carton and on the backside it was written with white letters on the blue of the carton.

The funny thing was, the girls had a pink instead of a blue carton.

He knew that only the school had those cartons, because Dudley had once had a great tantrum because of them, because he'd wanated those cartons at home too, but aunt Petunia hadn't found them anywhere. Dudley had been really upset at that and so aunt Petunia had asked Miss Weldon, and Miss Weldon had told aunt Petunia that those cartons couldn't be bought anywhere, because they'd been made for the London school systems. Aunt Petunia had asked her about buying them from the school, but Miss Davenport hadn't allowed it and so - for once in his life, Dudley hadn't gotten what he'd wanated.

Despite the pain in his chest he took a deep breath before he released it slowly and with a shuddering sound. Well, it would be nice if he could sit here, leaning against Mr. Snape's chest, forever and ever and ever, but well, he knew that he couldn't. Only too soon he would have to go back home, never mind what, and then his time in heaven would be over and he'd be back in hell. Closing his eyes he relaxed and tried to savour the moment as good as possible, tried to burn it into his head and into his chest so that he could remember and feel it if needed at home tonight.

Frowning down at the child in his arms he noticed that the boy had fallen asleep on him again and gently he took the carton of milk from the tiny, small fingers and placed it at the sideboard behind him again while shifting the small form into a more laying position, wrapping the child's blanket around the delicate figure more safely.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"How much progress have you made so far, Miss Harvest?" He asked, seriously. "There won't be much more time. Mr. Potter is close to becoming catatonic and I can feel his magic draining - losing him. I can feel the magic from the classroom, that is reacting to the child's magic from the beginning on as if it were his nursery, and right now, I can feel the room's magic clinging to Little Harry's magic desperately, as if the room was fighting his slipping magic, trying to keep it with him."

"I don't know it, Professor Snape." The woman sighed and he scowled over at her darkly. "There will be an official hearing on the Little Whinging authorities next week, simultaneously with the inspection of the police department in Little Whinging."

"Next week is a long time, Miss Harvest." He growled. "From Monday to Friday, that are five days, five days that could be the difference between life and death to the child."

"Well, I surely shouldn't be giving you this information, Professor, but seeing that I know that I can trust you, the actions in Little Whining are planned to be coordinated on Tuesday morning."

"Let us hope that it won't be too late then." He hissed angrily.

He couldn't afford waiting that long, he knew. Again Dursley had stepped up the abuse and today, Friday, the boy had come with new horrible bruises not only on his back and on his behind, but on his chest too. Not to mention that the silent weakness combined with the desperation the child radiated, worried him to no end.

Not one word had there been today, not one single word, while the child had barely released him for longer than a few minutes while holding his carton of milk.

What had worried him the most however, had been when Harry had wet his trousers.

He hadn't done that since he'd arrived here in Little Whinging, neither while being at pre-school, nor while the boy had been visiting him.

The boy had wet his bed, in the night, yes - but he had never wet his trousers during daytime, had always gone to the bathroom in time. That he was doing so now, and not while he was asleep on his lap but while being awake - it worried him.  
The child had been horrified after that, but he had simply taken the boy to the bathroom, had cleaned him, had re-dressed him, and he hadn't made any fuss about it - what most likely had calmed Harry down.

He'd cast a drying and a refreshing charm at the boy's trousers and underwear and he'd dressed him in his old trousers again before bringing him to the corner between Wisteria Walk and Privet Drive in the evening before he had apparated to London.

"Is there absolutely no way to speed things up, Miss Harvest?" He asked, frustrated at the head-shake and the "I fear not" from the woman while honestly, he'd known that this answer would come anyway. "Is there any way to get the boy out of the household until then?" He then asked, but again there was a soft "regrettably, no, there is no official way."

But well - it was a sentence that made clear - Harvest would most likely cover him up if he took an inofficial way.

"Professor." Miss Harvest called him back the moment he was about to leave and he turned back to the woman. "I suggest the boy remains with the Dursleys except of his visit at your house on Saturday afternoon, but do remember that no authorities will be at work on Sundays, at least, they will be hard to be gathered then."

Well, that was all he needed and without an answer he gave a curt nod and then left the woman's office. He hadn't had planned anything on Saturday anyway, knowing that on a Sunday it would be much harder to track anyone. Not that it would be easy to track him, but any hour he could get would be important if he was to take pauses in between apparition points. Six to seven hours was all he needed to get the boy to safety.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Miss Harvest?" The other person on the telephone said and she sighed.

She hated that particular device, but she knew that - if working together with muggle authorities, never mind what kind of muggle authorities, then she had no other chance than using it and - in this case, she actually was glad that she had, because it was Garland.

"Good evening, Mr. Garland, what can I do for you?" She asked, hoping that the man would hear her clearly. Of course she - _knew_ - that he did, that he did hear her as clearly as she was hearing him, however this bloody thing was working, but - she always feared that it would stop working during an important information being given. There was nothing that indicated the device working after all if the person on the other side of it didn't speak for a moment. It was different with the floo. As long as the flames were green, then the floo was working and the other person got your message, but with this telel-thing, she never knew if it worked still.

"I've had a conversation with Doctor Carrington just two hours ago, Miss Harvest." Garland said and she frowned. "And Doctor Carrington made clear that he was very worried about the Potter boy's health. He said that the child wouldn't last until Tuesday next week without becoming catatonic and without finally breaking down."

"That is as much the same thing Professor Snape has told me this evening." She said. Could it be that things were being sped up? She only could hope so.

"How fast could you act, Miss Harvest." Garland asked and she nearly sighed with relief. "I mean, if it really came to the worst, how far could you gather your people, trustworthy people, to act?"

"I think I could gather all the necessary people from London child welfare within half a day." She answered, knowing that it would be hard upon a weekend, to gather someone from the muggle child welfare on a weekend, but not impossible as she already knew who'd be responsible for checking the Little Whinging authorities. They'd been working together more than once within London environment when it came to wizarding children that were muggle raised, and so she knew the people, Mr. Minos and Mrs. Button-Gray, both very fierce people when it came to children and their welfare - she would be able rousing them during the weekend.

The much more difficult part would be starting on the authorities during the same time as Garland and his men started on his inspections of the police department, because if one of those authorities slipped them and warned each other before they were run over - then it would be worse for Mr. Potter and then they most likely wouldn't have a second chance.

"The same goes for me." Garland said. "I guess it would take me half a day to gather all the people I need for an inspection during a weekend. I have asked Doctor Carrington to make a visit at Mr. Snape's house during the time when the Potter boy is with him during the weekend, and he will report back to me if there is need for action. I suggest that I immediately inform you then, and I suggest that from the time of our calls we take action exactly six hours later, if that is amenable with you."

"Would there be a way to communicate with you while you are out of your office?" She asked, again annoyed at the muggle ways of this situation, now more than she normally would be as this time the situation was so much worse.

"I fear not, because any call on the radio could inform Stabler and his men." The answer she had known would come came. "Not to mention that I have not informed all my office of the inspection, only those colleagues which will be working with me on this directly."

"Alright." She sighed. "I had hoped to coordinate our teams within the six hours range so to be sure that our investigations really happen simultaneously."

"I fear in this case we have to do our best efforts to strike exactly after six hours on our own." The man on the other end of the equipment sighed. "I won't risk failure because of too many people getting wind of the action."

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Sitting at the sofa Arabella was staring at the televisionthings, fascinated by the moving pictures while she was absent mindedly stroking Tibbles and Tufty, while Snowy and Mr. Paws were dozing on the sofa beside her. Of course she was used to moving pictures, she was a squib but not a muggle and so she of course had grown up in a wizarding household with moving picture-frames sitting on the windowsill or the mantelpiece. But never before had an entire story been played out on any moving pictures, only short frequences, only one or another scene. But these muggle moving pictures - she wondered why the muggles were so badly viewed by the wizarding world, because their magic was much more powerful, and it was a magic even she could use.

Little did she know about little Harry being beaten again.

Little did she know about Severus taking steps to not only kidnapping the boy but to also make an official complain about her, informing the order - or rather Albus, as the order in this form didn't exist anymore since the war was over - about her poor watching over the child.

And little did she know about what would be happening soon in Little Whinging and just a few houses away from her.

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"Go to the bathroom, get washed and brush your teeth, child." He said, softly. "Do you need help with that?"

There was a quick head-shake before the boy did as he was told and went towards the bathroom.

For a moment there was the start of a faint smile on the pale face, only the start of it, the edges of the boy's mouth not even really moving upwards but just the muscles preparing to move - but then it had been gone and the child's face remained unmoving, the boy's eyes remained dull and empty. Only the quick head-shake that indicated, no, he didn't need help, the adult didn't need to bother with him, he was able doing this alone and there was no way he'd ask anything of anyone what wold only get him into trouble and what would only make him a bother.

"Then go and start, child." He said anyway. "I'll come and look in on you in a moment."

And the boy turned and left, slowly and clearly tiredly.

Of course he knew why the boy had been happy about his suggestion in the first place, namely because there'd been someone who'd cared about him brushing his teeth or getting washed before bed to begin with, and yes - he also knew why his happiness had been gone again even before he'd expressed any of it, namely because he feared that he, Snape, would leave him if he was a bother at all.

Taking a deep breath he remembered the fiasco on the boy's first visit, when he'd been over for the weekend.

**Flashback**

_Entering the bathroom, frowning, wondering why the child would take so long with brushing his teeth and getting washed, his frown deepened when he saw the child standing in front of the sink, still dressed and helplessly looking at the things in the bathroom, clearly not knowing what to do and he entered. _

_"Harry?" He asked, softly, so that he wouldn't startle the child, but it was in vain, because the boy did jump at his voice anyway, looking up at him clearly guiltily. "What's the problem, child?"_

_"N-nodhing." The boy said, his green eyes large._

_"You haven't used the wash-cloth and soap, child?" He asked, frowning, while looking around. The boy's face was clearly wet, while the wash-cloth he had laid out was still dry and the soap hadn't been used either. The toothbrush he'd laid out for the boy clearly wasn't used at all, too._

_He'd tried to give the boy a bath earlier in the day, but that - had been a fiasco and surely he wouldn't make the same mistake twice, not before he had the child out of the Dursleys' household at all. He'd wait until he had the boy with him to get him used to a bath or a shower. _

_"Come here, Harry." He said, taking the wash-cloth and having some water running into the sink, he undressed the child completely, ignoring the large eyes the meanwhile stunned child looked at him with, and then added soap to the wet cloth. "Close your eyes, child." He said while running the wash-cloth over the boy's face. "You need to use soap and the soap would burn in your eyes, therefore you need to be careful so that you won't get it into your eyes in the first place. You always wash your face and your hands at first, and then your arms, your body and finally your legs and feet."_

_He watched the boy taking a deep breath at the smell of the soap, watched him relaxing while he washed the entire boy and he realized - the Dursleys had never allowed the boy something like soap. The entire child was sniffing and trying to take deeper breathes as was possible even, just to get the smell of the soap into his lungs, like he'd done with Mr. Moo a few days ago. He would have to make sure that the child always used soap, and maybe this way he could get the boy to - go into a bathtub one day, if it smelled of soap. _

**End flashback**

Well, in the end he'd had a boy leaning against him, completely relaxed - until he'd suggested to brush his teeth.

The helpless look on the child's face had been what had made him seething inwardly while realizing that the Dursleys had never allowed the boy something like personal hygiene at all, had not even spent a cent or a minute so the child could learn how to wash his body or how to brush his teeth, nor had they given him the things needed so that the child could have done so in future.

Knowing that it wouldn't go too well if he started brushing the boy's teeth, that he'd only startle and frighten the boy with the action, he had taken his own toothbrush and had then reached the children's toothbrush he'd transfigured earlier at Harry, the boy had been looking at the thing with large eyes however, not knowing what to do with it. He had then added toothpaste to both, had filled two glasses, had wet his toothbrush and had then started brushing his teeth. The boy had looked at him with large eyes for a moment before copying his movements, slowly and unsurely and he had nodded his head to show the child that yes, this was what he'd expected of him.

A moment later there had even been a giggling coming from the boy and he had rolled his eyes at the clearly childish behaviour of the little snotty toddler he'd had in his care. Secretly he had smiled at the giggle, but only secretly, had it showed to him that somewhere inside Harry was still a child, a child that wanted to have fun, that wanted to be happy - and he would make sure that the child was just that.

Coming into the bathroom this time, he was pleased to see that the boy had already brushed his teeth and was now about to get washed, and he took a warm and soft towel and dried the boy that was cold enough all the time lately. He didn't need being cold because he slipped into his pyjamas while being wet. He led the boy into the room he'd made for him, put him into bed and covered him.

There were only two or three hours the boy could sleep, before he had to get him awake so that he could eat a bit before sending him back to the Dursleys, but as long _as_ he could sleep, he wanted the child to sleep comfortable. He guessed that he was sleeping uncomfortably enough over there, at number four, he'd make sure that at least here, he would sleep comfortably.

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_will there be a newspaper with a child being killed?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

652 - Gryffindor

653 - Slytherin

546 - Ravenclaw

309 - Hufflepuff


	24. the situation slips

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

Well - the chapter before last … I hope that you'll like it … and I hope that you won't kill me for having the story ending …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs - whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_A moment later there had even been a giggling coming from the boy and he had rolled his eyes at the clearly childish behaviour of the little snotty toddler he'd had in his care. Secretly he had smiled at the giggle, but only secretly, had it showed to him that somewhere inside Harry was still a child, a child that wanted to have fun, that wanted to be happy - and he would make sure that the child was just that._

_Coming into the bathroom this time, he was pleased to see that the boy had already brushed his teeth and was now about to get washed, and he took a warm and soft towel and dried the boy, that was cold enough all the time lately. He didn't need being cold because he slipped into his pyjamas while being wet. He led the boy into the room he'd made for him, put him into bed and covered him._

_There were only two or three hours the boy could sleep, before he had to get him awake so that he could eat a bit before sending him back to the Dursleys, but as long as he could sleep, he wanted the child to sleep comfortable. He guessed that he was sleeping uncomfortably enough over there, at number four, he'd make sure that at least here, he would sleep comfortably._

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter twenty-four**

**The situation slips**

"Sleep." He softly said, tucking the boy's blanket around the small form before sitting down into an armchair beside the bed, silently, watching the little fiend.

Harry had come an hour ago and immediately he had seen that there had been again, new injuries, real injuries, not - _'just'_ - bruises or scratches and he hadn't even bothered with a greeting or leading the boy to his room or the kitchen, but he simply had picked the child up, had carried him to his room where he had deposited him on his bed before starting to undress the small and tiny scarecrow.

He'd really been seething with fury when seeing the open cuts on the child's back, cuts that clearly stemmed from a cane, sharp cuts that were located in clear lines running horizontally below each other. Some of them had been bleeding still, some of them had been halfway dried up but sticking to the ragged t-shirt the child had been wearing and some had already been infected.

There wasn't a word of contradiction, the boy obediently closing his eyes and the only sign of his fear was the tiny and bony hand sneaking forth from beneath the blanket, sneaking its way into his own hand and he allowed it, but there hadn't been a word of contradiction or similar earlier either, when he had cared for the child's injuries. The child hadn't even squirmed or tried to get away in any other way, had only silently cried.

Running his hand over his face he took a deep breath before slowly releasing it, watching the child falling asleep within the minute, exhausted and clearly too weak for anything else than doing what he was told. The small body that was curled up to a small protective ball slowly started relaxing a bit, the hitched breathing evening out while only once in a while hiccupping, and the grip the small fingers had on his hand loosened.

Harry Potter, the boy who lived - even though barely - had fallen asleep, obediently, as he had been told.

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He cast one last, worried glance at the sleeping child and then he got off the armchair when he was sure that Little Harry wouldn't wake, hoping that he would sleep for at least two or three hours without waking - what he most likely would as he had slipped a mild sleeping potion to the pain reliever he'd added to the cup of warm milk he'd given the child earlier, before starting to care for all those injuries.

He went into the kitchen of the small house Dumbledore had rented for him here at Privet Drive and opened his trunk, noticing with some annoyance that his fingers were still shaking, but for once he didn't care about that. He summoned the clothes from the closet in his bedroom, waving his wand over them while they came floating into the kitchen and obediently they folded themselves before they floated down into the trunk, into a neat pile. He again waved his wand and his books came floating into the kitchen too, this time from the study and a moment later parchment, quills and ink followed, hovering above the trunk for a moment until the books had settled, before they too went down into the large space.

Potions Ingredients and cauldrons followed suit, then toiletries and towels, and finally the child's clothes he'd shrunken or transfigured together with one or another toy or book he'd gotten over the past two weeks for the child to play with while being in his care. The smaller clothes of the child too folded themselves while approaching the trunk before settling down and the toys and books plied themselves neatly, nearly filling the remainder of the large space that had been his empty trunk just a few minutes ago.

Of course he knew that he had made a mistake, and a grave mistake no less, but he hadn't been able to prevent it. He was a Death Eater, he was a bastard and he was dark and cold, uncaring for anything to do with children, but he was not completely heartless and seeing the child in so much pain, so seriously injured - he hadn't been able to prevent his actions and so he had started healing the wounds instead of just cleaning them to prevent them from further infection.

In other words - he knew that the boy couldn't go back to Dursley.

If Vernon Dursley found that the injuries he had caused most likely either yesterday evening or this morning were healed, gone - as if by magic - then he surely would have the child paying deeply for it, then he would beat him worse than ever for having done magic and he knew, even though Harry would tell the man that it hadn't been him, that he'd done nothing - what he also knew Harry wouldn't do anyway - Dursley wouldn't even believe him. So, if he wanted to prevent Dursley killing the child, then he couldn't allow Harry to go back to number four, what meant - he would have to flee England with the child as the authorities would search for Dursley's nephew - and they knew where to search as Dursley had sent the boy here this afternoon.

In other words, that what he had hoped to prevent had come to pass now, he would kidnap the child even though he knew that a life on the run would be anything than pleasant for both of them.

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His doorbell ringing - again while he had the child sleeping - had him cursing under his breath and with a scowl on his face he went through the hallway and towards the front door, praying that it wasn't Vernon Dursley standing on his doormat. On the other hand - let it be that bastard, he would … do nothing, he knew, knowing that only the child would have to pay for it if he harmed Vernon Dursley now, as much as he would love it to hit his fist into the man's face before trying every single painful curse on him he knew - and as a Death Eater he knew quite a few very painful dark curses.

Alright, as an ex Death Eater in disguise, but that wasn't the point. The point was -

Lifting his eyebrow at Carrington he stepped aside to allow the man in and then led him into his kitchen, ignoring the man's startled look when seeing the open trunk filled with clothes, books, toys and other things standing in the middle of the spacious and now - except of the furniture - rather empty room.

"Knowing you, you'd like a cup of coffee, Carrington?" He growled, already taking two cups from his trunk and filling them with the remaining coffee he'd made this morning.

"Actually, I came to have a look at Harry." The medic said. "Garland told me to have a look on the boy today while he is visiting you and he is just waiting for my call to hurry up the inspection if necessary. I see - you are moving out, Professor?"

"Harry is in his room, sleeping." He growled while taking a sip of the black brewage. "You may have a look on him but I tell you - I won't wait until Garland and his London authorities have moved their bloody backsides to investigate on the Little Whinging authorities."

"I take it that Dursley has again harmed the child." The man simply stated, closing his eyes for a moment at the hot liquid running down his throat. It wasn't a question, but a statement and the Potions Master just huffed at him.

"Indeed." He then growled.

"If I inform Garland about new injuries now and if they then start their investigation early, then the worst you could do is kidnapping the child now." Carrington said and his face darkened. Of course he knew that, but - he had no other chance. "It only will worsen the situation. You need your back free to take the child in as soon as this is over, as you have been planning, Snape. You have to keep yourself out of prison and out of any other kind of trouble."

"I won't be able sending the boy back to the Dursleys." He growled at the bloody medic. "And therefore, there is only one solution left - I have to leave England with the child."

"I don't think that Dursley will be able taking Harry back." Carrington shook his head. "And even _if _Garland won't arrest Dursley today - what I highly doubt - then you cannot keep Harry from his uncle without getting yourself into trouble. But I think that Garland will investigate, together with Harvest, and then they will take their son into custody, arrest the Dursleys and inform you to keep Harry for the time being - that at least is what I think will be the plan."

"And what if not, Carrington?" He hissed angrily at the man, leaning with his hands onto the tabletop while glaring at the other. "What if it won't be done so quickly? What if it is seven o'clock and I have to send the boy home? I have healed his injuries - what do you think will happen if Dursley notices? And somehow I am sure he will. He will kill the boy for having done - _'freakish'_ things."

"Freakish things?" Carrington asked and he took a deep breath to calm himself.

"People say that you have been the Evans' family doctor since the two girls, Petunia and Lily, have been small children by their own." He then said, his eyes narrowed at the man. "You have no idea why Petunia has hated her sister so much, have you?"

"I guess because Petunia has been jealous." Carrington said, shrugging his shoulders. "Lily has always been more graceful than Petunia, more intelligent and more - happy, friendlier. Lily could charm people with her laughing, with smiling at them."

"Charming people, indeed." He huffed. "Lily has been a witch."

"Now, now, Snape." The man furrowed his brows at him. "There's no need for -"

"I didn't mean it as an insult." He cut the man off, impatiently. He didn't have too much time. He intended on being ways off the continent already the moment Dursley noticed that he had kidnapped the boy, and so he just drew his wand and waved it at Carrington's cup of coffee, magically refilling it. "Lily was indeed a witch, in the truest sense of the word - as I am a wizard. And so is Harry. Magic - not the muggle tricks you might view on the streets or on the television - is real, Carrington and I am a teacher at a magical education institution in Scotland. Lily's parents, Rose and Florian Evans, they have been muggles, non-magical people, like you, and so is Petunia. Lily was the only witch in the family and therefore she's been attending Hogwarts, the school I have spoken of. Petunia wanted the same, but as she had no magic, she couldn't attend and that was what had made her jealous. Not because Lily - has been so very graceful and charming, so kind and so - lovely. No, she's hated her for her magic which Petunia would be denied forever, it was because Lily had been so special. Lily and Petunia had gone along rather well, until Lily had become eleven, until - until she'd learned about being a witch. Petunia has always protected her smaller sister until then."

"Where do you know this information from?" Carrington asked, looking at him startled and he lifted his eyebrow - because this surely was not the first question that he had expected coming to the man's mind. "There are a lot of things that make sense suddenly, but where from do you know these things?"

"I know them - because I … I have been a close friend to the Evans family, to Lily." He softly said, remembering, remembering Lily, remembering Rose and Florian Evans, Lily's parents, Harry's grandparents. "I've been the one who'd told Lily that she's been a witch when she was eight. And we've become close friends. Lily was - the closest person in my life. And I've been responsible for - for her death."

"You have killed her?" Carrington asked but it was a question that held a lot of doubt, the blasted man.

"Of course not." He growled darkly at the imbecile. "I would have never harmed Lily, the only person I have loved. And yet, I've been responsible for her death anyway. After that, I have sworn an oath, an unbreakable vow to keep her child safe. And I have failed her again by not doing so."

"You are here _now_, Snape." Carrington smiled at him and he huffed at the bloody man. "I begin to understand - Petunia has now transferred her hate for Lily towards Lily's son because he has the same gift as has had her mother. And the _'freakish'_ thing they accuse the boy of doing, is magic. And now Dursley will think that he's done magic again to heal himself."

"Indeed." He growled.

"Can you not make him looking as if he were still injured?" Carrington asked, shrugging his shoulders? "Magically? Just in case that Dursley won't be arrested today but tomorrow?"

Taking a deep breath he watched the man for a few moments before he slowly released his breath.

"I could." He then said, slowly. "But what good will it do to the boy? Has he not suffered enough?"

"You will be considered a criminal if you now kidnap the child." Carrington said. "It will be considered as an act of being in the wrong what will give the Dursleys' lawyer a spot to take hold for his defence. They might be cleared of all the charges if you now make a wrong move, Snape. You also will be hunted by the authorities then, both of you - and if they catch you, then they will put you into prison and the boy will go back to the Dursleys if they have been cleared of all the charges. Is that what you want? You wouldn't be able getting to the boy a second time and he would be doomed. It is one day only, Snape. Do not risk anything because of one day. I will take a look at the child, if you allow me to, and then I'll call Garland. Tonight it will be over - tomorrow at the latest."

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It had been three in the afternoon when he had called Garland and so he now, at seven, was sure that the hubbub was over and Snape already informed about keeping Harry for the time being - at least until one or another solution had been found. Harry was a child without parents and his only other living relatives being on their way to prison - so he guessed that child welfare would place the child with a foster family - until Snape had filled the adoption papers.

Strange, really, what Snape had told him this afternoon.

Wizards - he huffed.

Well, it explained a lot of things, the strange things Lily had been doing when she'd been really small. Snape had told him that children were automatically doing something that was called accidental magic whenever they wished one thing or didn't want another thing - and Lily had been really good in _'hiding'_ away any syrings he had in his office whenever there would have been a reason for taking a blood sample. Or it would explain the girl's coughing syrup tasting of strawberry while Petunia's would still taste like the herbs it was made of.

Taking a deep breath he settled himself into the armchair. He would visit Snape again tomorrow morning, just to have a look on the two and just to learn of any news.

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It had been three in the afternoon when he had called Harvest and so it was two hours left until they were to act.

They had agreed on six hours after he called the woman from child welfare until they took actions so that their investigations on the police department and the authorities would really be happening simultaneously and they had both agreed to exactly nine o'clock in the evening, had both even synchronised their watches.

He then had positioned his men at several different places. Haynes he'd sent to Forest Alley where Stabler lived, the man was now waiting in his car until exactly nine o'clock to temporarily arrest Stabler. Henson he'd sent to Weaver, one of Stabler's cronies who was out of office tonight, he too was waiting in his car until exactly nine to get the man arrested temporarily. And he himself was waiting with a team of five officers near the Little Whinging police department, ready to do their visit.  
He knew that Harvest and some of her people had taken residence near the houses where the Little Whinging authorities were living and they all were hoping for _really_ a simultaneous approach so that they finally could take down all of the corrupt group.

When Harvest and Howell had addressed him a few days earlier - independent of each other - he had become really clairaudient as the corrupt authorities in Little Whinging had always been a thorn in his side. He'd also ways been suspicious about Stabler, but there had never been enough proof. Now, that a small child was in the thick of it, suffering from their corruption, now he had enough reason and ammunition to investigate for real and to get them off their seats.

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It had been three in the afternoon when Garland had called her, and now it was seven o'clock - and two hours were left until the deadline upon which all action in Little Whinging would start.

She'd deposited several of her people from not only the London child welfare but some of her wizarding ministry people too - several of them even being members of the order - at different places around Little Whinging. Miss Weldon from St. Catherine pre-school was one of the people they would take to the office tonight, as were Miss Wellington, Miss Stabler, John O'Melly and David Noldon - and the Mason family. She already had prepared for Dudley Dursley and Charles Mason to be placed in the care of two different families, outside of Little Whinging, near London, so that they were not only away from the influence of their families but also couldn't do anything stupid upon their families being taken into custody.

Never before had she had an operation as far reaching and as delicate as this one.

Of course, any case of child neglect or child abuse was delicate, and any of the children were in danger until the situation was solved - but never before had so many people been involved. Normally it was her, one woman from London muggle child welfare and one police officer visiting the family and taking the child - but this time? Merlin, they were at least fifteen people altogether which were involved if she included Severus who was caring for little Harry soon, to the crowd.

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Severus was pacing his kitchen, nervously.

He hadn't unpacked his trunk - just in case - but had cast a few glamours over Harry so that he would look as if being still injured before waking the child and sending him back to Dursley at seven, wondering why no one had come to investigate yet, wondering why no one had come to inform him about anything yet.

Of course he knew that it was a dangerous thing, casting those glamours over the child and then sending him back to Dursley. If Dursley noticed _anything_, the boy's movements not being concordant with his _'injuries'_, his injuries only being a trick, whatever - then the child would be dead.

He could understand Carrington's reasoning, even knew that the bloody and imbecilic man was correct - but that didn't keep him from worrying because he knew how much could go wrong tonight.

Carrington had called on Garland at three in the afternoon, he knew it, because he'd been present during that call, Carrington having done that call from his telephone. And now it was seven! What in Merlin's name had happened during the past four hours so that none of them had come to investigate? Garland had told Carrington that they would start the operation and that he would inform Harvest right away. That had been four hours ago now and no one had come, neither to him nor to the Dursleys' house - and he had watched their house, he would have noticed.

He had seen Petunia opening the door of number four with a scowl on her face upon the boy using the doorbell, ushering Harry in quickly and he'd seen the woman casting a quick glance over at his house before closing the door, but since then there had been nothing, no indication that there was anything wrong at Little Whinging, nothing that would hint about any strange happenings in the village at all.

Well, he wouldn't leave his place at the kitchen window anytime soon, the place that allowed him a clear view of the Dursleys' house and anything that would happen there during the evening or the night - or not happen.

Maybe they waited with any investigations on the Dursleys until they had taken all the other people into custody, he thought, that would seem reasonably and that could be an explanation as to why there wasn't anything happening in Privet Drive yet. Or maybe they waited until Harry was visiting him tomorrow so that the child would be out of the firing line and therefore out of danger, that too could be a possibility, even if it was one that he didn't like, knowing that any hour the boy spent in this house was danger already, even without any police officers or child welfare authorities investigating at the house.

Taking another deep breath before getting off the kitchen chair he started pacing the kitchen floor again, like he'd done earlier, casting worried glances over at number four whenever he passed the window.

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"I suggest you all keep your fingers off the phones and follow me, please." He said upon entering the police department together with his men. "The officers Cornell and Clinton will overtake your department duties while the others of us will take you to London for investigations."

Of course he knew that it wasn't standard, such a way of acting, but it wasn't standard either to have a department full of corrupt police officers, and so the Lord might forgive him any mistakes he made. He was acting to the best of his abilities under the worst of conditions. It was always not only strange but really hard to go against their own, to take a guardian of the law into custody because of crime investigations. Such a thing shouldn't be happening, never, because people should be able to trust in the police, to trust in their help, to trust in their judgement, in their fairness and in their keeping them safe. But whenever he had to investigate against one of his own he was painfully reminded that - no, people couldn't trust the police to keep them safe, not entirely, because there was always someone who would abuse their powers, seeking money, seeking even more power, seeking anything else.

"What investigations?" Marshall, one of the younger officers asked, leaning back in his seat and holding his hands so that they were visible and he appreciated the gesture. He wasn't sure who was a member of the corrupt department and who wasn't, and so - even though he hadn't heard of _that_ man - he wouldn't take any risks for now.

"You will be informed the moment you are in London." He shortly said, eliciting a smile from the man with his words.

"It's about Stabler, isn't it?" Marshall asked, his eyes narrowed at him and he opened his mouth to tell the man to simply shut up and wait when there was an angry growl from his left.

"Shut up, Marshall." The officer known to him as Witherspoon hissed, fighting against the grip one of his men had on him, trying to break free and attack Marshall who just lifted his eyebrow at the man, shrugging his shoulders.

"What?" The man asked. "I've told Stabler that he'd be under suspicion one day, he didn't believe me but made me working in the archive so that I was out of his feet. I have no troubles going to London, haven't you either, Witherspoon?"

Well, there were several others who had to be restrained by his men, enraged not only by them being taken into custody but also by Marshall's words, but they were rounded up rather soon - with the help of two from the department, Marshall and another young officer he didn't know and within the hour they all were seated in different cars, that would bring them to London, Marshall and Acquelli - the other young officer that had helped - included.

"You know, James, that was just our death sentence, we won't be able going back to the office." He heard Acquelli softly saying, whispering at the other. "Stabler will have our hides now."

"I'm not sure, Enrico." Marshall answered just as softly. "With any luck they won't be back at the department either."

Yes - with any luck they wouldn't be, he thought.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Elias Johnson signalled Haynes that it was time, two minutes before nine and if they wanted to reach the house at nine sharp, then they would have to get a move on. Wordlessly Haynes nodded at him before they silently opened the doors of the car, softly closed them and then moved through the darkening shadows towards the house they'd been watching since nearly four hours now.

Stabler had been out of the house with his wife, had been visiting a restaurant in the centre of Little Whinging, a godforsaken little village where all the houses looked the same as well as all the cars. Haynes had followed them while _he_ had stayed in the neighborhood, watching the house still and they'd come back about two hours later. Stabler or his wife had apparently turned on the television, because they could see the irregular flicker of light through one of the windows, but otherwise the street had been silent and still. He knew that in the neighboring street, just in Wisteria Lane, were Charles and David for one of Stabler's friends while a few streets eastwards there were a few people from child welfare positioned in Privet Drive and Wisteria Walk for the Dursleys, the Masons and one of the pre-school teachers.

Of course they all knew about the little boy that had to be rescued and the seriousness of the situation hit them all with full force, because it was always evil when there was a child involved, a child that got hurt by those that were bound to care for the child.

He had two children himself, a boy and a girl, five and seven years old - and he loved the two immensely. Never could he imagine hurting them, beating them or harming them in any other way, denying them anything. Withing reason of course.

He never would allow them to watch TV if they had not cleaned their rooms when being told to do just that, that would be irresponsible, but he would never deny them food or care of love just because they had a messy room - and this little boy didn't even _have_ a room. That at least was what he'd heard, that he was being kept in a cupboard.

Approaching the house he waited when Haynes had used the doorbell, preparing for Stabler sticking his head out of the door to have a look at the late visitor - to notice that it was a colleague from London. The man would either play the harmless part, being shocked upon having them as late visitors - or he would immediately put up a fight. Well, he prepared for the worst.  
What he was not prepared for was the door being yanked open violently, was a loud bang a moment later and the pain that shot through his chest another moment later. He noticed a shadow passing him in full speed while he himself went down to his knees, trying to catch his breath, trying to make sense of what had just happened. There was the memory of a ringing sound, like from a telephone, strangely dulled due to the sound coming through the closed door and there was the memory of a voice, stabler speaking - the ringing being mixed up with the doorbell - and then the bang and the pain.

For a moment he wondered how it even was that he could remember the telephone ringing, because between Haynes ringing the doorbell and Stabler shooting him, there hadn't been enough time for Stabler having had a phone - but then, that wasn't really important. A much more important question would be - what about his children? What would happen to them now? Who would care for them and their mother now?

Slowly blackness surrounded him and he felt himself slipping, felt himself giving in to the velvet darkness of the veil that surrounded him and then he knew - he had died.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Frowning Severus watched the police officer approaching number four and he shook his head.

One man? They were sending one single man to arrest Dursley and to take two children into custody? What the bloody hell …

He knew that the muggles had really trouble with their officers, that they had too few men and too much criminals - but one man to get two adults arrested and two children cared for? That was just unreasonably.

He watched Dursley opening the door, the man looking shocked for a moment and he smirked. Yes, let Dursley feel some fear for once. And then the officer entered number four. So - it began.

He didn't like the fact that it was one muggle officer only to do the job and to keep Harry safe at the same time - not to mention that he had thought that maybe Harvest would take care of the Dursleys herself, seeing that she was the one from wizarding child welfare, but apparently she rather made sure that the authorities couldn't interfere with the Dursleys being arrested what was - he had to admit that - just as important.

Sighing he closed his eyes and leaned his hands at the counter below the window-sill, allowing his head to hang low with tiredness for a moment. Soon - soon it would be over. It had begun and all over Little Whinging there were policemen and other people investigating, arresting corrupt officers and making sure that a small, little boy would be finally safe in future.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in Cartons of milk**

_the last chapter - the end of Harry Potter? Or the beginning of a new life? _…

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

661 - Gryffindor

674 - Slytherin

548 - Ravenclaw

311 - Hufflepuff


	25. the end of Harry Potter

**Title:**

Cartons of milk

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Harry's second year in pre-school

**Summary:**

Albus Dumbledore needs a teacher for the pre-school in Little Whinging, Surrey, to cover the raccoon-class which one Harry Potter attends … and whom do you think he will send? Well, I am sure you can already imagine …

**Disclaimer: **

Not mine, but J. K. Rowling's … I don't make money out of this, she did …

If it were mine, I wouldn't have killed Severus at the end of 'The deathly hallows' …

Just so I can torture him for a bit longer with my ridiculous ideas …

**Rating:**

M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

At first I do thank you for your reviews on the last chapter, I really do appreciate them …

Uhm … ok … then I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs - whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in Cartons of Milk**

_So - it began. _

_He didn't like the fact that it was one muggle officer only to do the job and to keep Harry safe at the same time - not to mention that he had thought that maybe Harvest would take care of the Dursleys herself, seeing that she was the one from wizarding child welfare, but apparently she rather made sure that the authorities couldn't interfere with the Dursleys being arrested what was - he had to admit that - just as important. _

_Sighing he closed his eyes and leaned his hands over the counter below the window-sill, allowing his head to hang low with tiredness for a moment. Soon - soon it would be over. It had begun and all over Little Whinging there were policemen and other people investigating, arresting corrupt officers and making sure that a small, little boy would be finally safe in future._

**Cartons of milk**

**Chapter twenty-five**

**The end of Harry Potter**

The sound of someone knocking at her front door caused her attention away from the late evening thriller she'd been watching on the television and with a frown on her face she went to open the door, wondering who would visit at such a late hour. It was nine o'clock in the evening and this surely was not a time during which normal people would do a visit, after all, and the only thing she could imagine was an emergency, maybe something had happened at school? But why would people come to her then as Davenport was the headmistress of St. Catherine and not her?

Maybe it was the murderer who'd knocked at the Greenlands' door in the thriller she'd been watching just a moment ago? One never knew, after all, and so she opened the door carefully, a bit only - better safe than sorry, after all, because you never knew who'd be on your doormat.

There wasn't however a black clothed and cloaked man with a mask and a knife in his hand, but an elderly woman, a woman that was rather small and chubby, with greyish hair and blue eyes - even though she did wear a coat that reminded at a cloak.

"Miss Weldon?" The woman asked while pulling a card out of a pocket of her coat, reaching it over at her and she hesitated a moment before taking it, just in case that the thing could be poisoned or something like that - one never knew, after all, and she'd only last week seen someone being killed by just opening a letter that had been poisoned.

"Yes, that's me." She said, reading the card - a Miss DeBase from child welfare in London - and she looked up at the woman. Was one of her children in trouble? She wondered while opening the door fully. She'd heard of little David, the boy was now living with his father because his mother had beaten him. But the boy wasn't one of her children, he was one of Snape's children.

Why Davenport had hired a male pre-school teacher, and one that always looked so stern and so crusty and gloomy, she didn't really know, but well, at least the man didn't fawn over the Potter brat like Adams had done. He seemed reasonably sever with the children and anyway the children liked him, as did Vernon and Petunia, by the way. They both had him over for dinner a few times and they even had the freak in his care while they'd been gone, because he knew how to handle the brat. So who was she to judge the man being there?

Not to mention that he did look so dangerously and so mysteriously good.

"I apologize for the late night interruption, but I am here because of investigations on a child that visits St. Catherine." The woman said and she allowed her in. One better didn't mess around with people from child welfare - because in a blink you could lose your job even if you were working with children.

"If you're speaking of little David Arlington, then you better ask Mr. Snape about it as the boy is in _his_ class." She said while leading the woman into her kitchen.

"I am not here because of young Mr. Arlington, but because of young Mr. Potter." The woman said and she turned towards her, large eyed. Potter? That little bother? What had he done now? Poor Petunia, really.

"Potter? Again?" She asked, taking two cups from the counter. "That boy is more trouble than he's worth, really, always seeking attention and getting his aunt and uncle into trouble because of it. He …"

"I am not here for a discussion with you on the child, Miss Arlington, but for you to accompany me to London." The woman said and she gasped. To London? Now? In the middle of the night? And because of the Potter boy?

"Surely you are joking, Miss DeBase." She said, shaking her head. "It is in the middle of the night after all and …"

"It is late evening, but surely not in the middle of the night, Miss Weldon, and no, I do not joke." The woman said. "The child we are speaking about is in immediate danger and others are already arrested or questioned while we are talking and now please get your things so that we can leave."

"Am I arrested?" She gasped, clearly in shock! Arrested! She! What would the neighbours say! How was she to explain something like that to Davenport? She'd never even got a ticket, ever!

"Of course not, Miss Weldon." The woman said and she breathed a sigh of relief. "I only ask you to accompany me as we need your testimony as we gather every people who have to do with young Mr. Potter or the Dursleys, and you are one of them, together in London."

"The Dursleys?" She asked while slipping into her shoes and taking her coat, her handbag and her keys. "They're so good people, you should know. They've taken that boy in when his parents died and since then they house him and care for him even though he's getting them into trouble more often than not."

"Yes, yes." The woman said, looking at her pointedly. "Just hurry up, Miss Weldon, it is late enough as it is, isn't it?"

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

His unease growing Severus paced his kitchen floor again, again throwing a worried glance over at number four every time he passed the window, and half an hour later he was sure that there was something wrong. He could feel it, he could … he just knew it and swearing softly he made sure that he had his wand - which he was carrying with him all the time lately - and then left the house in a hurry, his feeling increasing, his worry climbing higher and higher the closer he came to number four, and then he didn't even bother with knocking at the door anymore, or with using the doorbell. No - he just waved his wand and a moment later the door was thrown open, was blasted away.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Vernon Dursley had been watching the late night thriller, the murderer from Seattle, when there had been his doorbell ringing and knowing that Petunia was surely too scared to open the door - and too soft to give the late night disturber a good tongue lashing for his disruption anyway - he twaddled towards the door, opening with a scathing remark on his lips already when he noticed that it was Stabler, looking pale and clearly shocked, and quickly he stepped aside, allowing his friend in.  
"They're coming, Vernon." Frank said and he looked at the other man, trying to make sense of his words. Who was coming? The murderer from Seattle and his guys? "MI5 London, they're coming for the freak. I've just got a call from White in London, he's warned me about the investigation on the department here, and on the authorities. He said they got a hint from a teacher at St. Catherine and it only can be that new teacher, Snape. He's made a report and now they're investigating on several people, I've just got away because I got the warning."

"You don't worry, Frank." He said after he had calmed down himself, waving his friend off. "That won't bother us, I have a large cellar where I can hide you - and the boy."

"Don't you get it, Vernon?" Frank asked, and the poor man really looked like a ghost. "A cellar won't help us, they'll search your entire house!"

"And you think I have just one regular cellar?" Vernon asked, laughing at the man. He wasn't stupid after all and even though he had sworn to beat the freakishness out of the little freak, he knew that some people would frown upon what he was doing, it wasn't the first time after all that there were some visitors from child welfare - but well, so far there had never someone from MI5 been interested in the boy.

However, he'd long ago hired a firm to dig a second cellar beneath his regular cellar and the entrance to it was very well hidden - he was not stupid, no! And he had enough money to buy anything he wanted, never mind what this anything was.

Of course he knew that he wouldn't be able to buy the people from MI5, he knew from television that most of them were rather - serious upon their work. Although there were some who took money even within _their_ circles.

Yanking open the door to his cupboard under the stairs where he allowed the freak to sleep, he grabbed the little liar's foot and dragged him out of his comfortable space.

"Thought you could get us into trouble, you little bugger!" He hissed at the boy, feeling his anger rising, swelling until he though he would explode, giving the freak a good slap. He would teach him a lesson, a good lesson, before he'd lock him up in what he called the freak's prison. Well, he'd lock Frank up there too, but well, that was inevitably - and he was sure that Frank would be able using his time he would have to spend with the little bugger wisely.

"We don't have time for that Vernon!" Frank hissed at him but he didn't care about the man anymore, not right now, because he needed to beat the freakishness out of this bloody freak, he needed to teach him the best lesson of his life before he could lock him up so that he had enough time to think about his punishment he'd gotten before he'd get his next one - so long until the freak was finally normal, he'd do it this time, he'd manage this time!

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Throwing open the door to number four he stopped mid-step at the screams that went through the corridor, his face darkening when he saw Dursley beating and kicking at Harry who was already laying on the floor, curled up in a small ball, while the officer who'd entered the house half an hour ago was trying to tell Dursley to stop - and to finally lock the boy into the cellar.

So, there was an officer that was either one of the corrupt crowd or one that was about to warn people - he should have come earlier, he should have taken Harry away this evening, he should have kept the boy this afternoon, he should have …

He didn't even bother with any words he could have said but simply waved his wand - first at the officer, knowing that he most likely was in possession of a weapon and he was not ready to take any risks at all, and then at Vernon Dursley, and both men fell to the ground with two loud thuds, their legs locked together and their arms as if being clued to their bodies, unable to move anything but their eyes and a moment later he waved his wand a third time, causing both men to cream in silence before he knelt down beside the boy's small form, beside the child that yet again had been beaten - and this time it was definitely his fault, because he could have prevented it, he _could_ have taken the child and he _could_ have fled England with the boy, he _could_ be off the continent already by now - if only he had not listened to Carrington.

Gently he turned the small form, gritting his teeth when he noticed the new injuries, when he noticed the fear radiating off the boy, the soft whimper the child gave away, but then his face went indifferent and stony.

He would not make the same mistake twice.

And he would not make the mistake and wait for Dursley to claim the child back, no, he would not wait until more people came who could hurt his boy.

He would act right now!

Trying to move as slowly as possible and trying to keep his grip as gently as possible he lifted the small form off the floor and gathered the child into his arms, ignoring the blood from the nosebleed that came on his robes when Little Harry sneaked his small and thin arms around his neck, and he cradled the child to his chest, one arm resting beneath the boy's behind and the other arm resting on the boy's back while his hand held the small head in place against his shoulder and so he carried him out of the house. He didn't bother with going back to number seven even, just summoned his trunk and shrunk it at the same time, glad that the child was not looking but had buried his head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder, and he caught the trunk, put it into the pocket of his cloak. He also immediately summoned the backpack he'd prepared, knowing that there were a few things he'd need during their travel before he wrapped both the ends of his cloak around the small and trembling, softly sobbing form and then he apparated away.

A small crack was heard in Privet Drive, Little Whinging before there was silence, only disturbed by the arrival of several police cars, Elsa Harvest and Kingsley Shacklebolt who both got one short glimpse at a vanishing piece of cloak. They shared one quick look, knowing that they would neither find Harry Potter at number four nor Severus Snape at number seven, knowing that the man had kidnapped the child and had with his actions most likely saved the boy's life, and so both of them relaxed, smiling.

They would not follow the Potions Master. They would just slow down any searching party, and they would just inform him the moment England was safe for him and the child to come back after the adoption papers had been through the ministry.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Little Harry throwing up, the apparition from England to France and then from France to Spain having not done any good to the child's already weak stomach, was the first thing happening the moment his feet touched solid ground and he helped the terrified child down to kneel on the ground and lose his lunch he'd provided the boy with earlier in the day, steadying the small form while he took a look around, his wand at the ready should there be any danger - or wizards that had followed - arising.

They were at the corner of a small clearing within a forest, near a small steam and he knew that they had arrived at the small island near Isla Cabanza, a small piece of earth that didn't even have a name and with some satisfaction he noticed that there was no one around, they were alone. He should have made a stop in France, he knew, to give the child a few minutes to recover from the apparition. Not only was apparition rather harsh upon a person that had never experienced this kind of travel, but mostly children didn't take apparition as well as adults did, their sense for balance not mature yet, their balance organs still growing. But he hadn't dared doing so, knowing that any wizards would know how to follow them, would know where to search for them - namely in any neighbouring country, like France, Benelux, Germany, Denmark or Norway. Even Iceland they might search for them, and Spain, and he knew - they had to leave the continent as quickly as possible, they couldn't linger for too long.

Slipping the backpack off his shoulders he opened the bag and pulled out a bottle with herbal tea he'd prepared with a stomach soothing potion earlier in the day and he placed a hand on the boy's back, turning the small form. He took a flannel which he wet with a hidden aquamenti and cleaned the boy's face.

They say that when you are faced with death, your life passes before your eyes. Snape knew that to be true, having had experienced it before - but this time, while fear for the child in his arms threatened to topple him, it was not his own life he kept seeing, but Harry's. The all too short, all too miserable existence of one little boy passed by in a millisecond. A cold rush of sudden knowledge followed by another knowledge: _I am a terrible guardian, leading the child to a life on the run, hunted by his own people for only Merlin knew how long - most likely for the remainder of his life, as short as it might be._

"There's no need to be scared." He softly said upon looking into the large green eyes. "I've taken you away from the Dursleys and you won't go back there, ever. Drink a few sips of that tea, it will help your upset stomach. You'll feel better after that."

There wasn't a word of contradiction, there wasn't even a question about where they were, or where they were going to, nothing - and neither did the child take the bottle he reached him. Sighing he reached out and gathered the small form into his arms until he had the child safely in his arms and then he put the bottle at the boy's lips, dipping the bottom until the child had to drink - what he did, again without any protest and again without - any other reaction.

He waited a few minutes, watching the boy who didn't even look around, who didn't seem to notice the woods, the grass, nor the nearby small river, the child most likely in - some kind of shock, from the newly received brutal beating or his being kidnapped, or the rather quick and rather strange travelling - he didn't know. Well, he had no other chance then travelling further away, to leave Spain and the continent, to reach Algeria or Libya - only then he could afford a rest before he would bring them further eastwards to Egypt and finally to Saudi-Arabia. But for now, they were not safe.

Packing the bottle back into his backpack, closing the bag and then shouldering it he again gathered the child into his arms, wrapping his cloak around the small form before he apparated away, further south to Algeria, leaving Europe.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

There was a small carton of milk standing atop the counter beneath the windowsill in the room the raccoons called their classroom, one lonely carton of milk and somehow Cassandra Davenport knew - that was Little Harry's carton of milk and she also knew that - neither the child nor the teacher would come back, ever. The man had taken the child and had left, getting the boy to safety and she was alright with that.

A few weeks earlier she most likely would have frowned upon the teacher's actions, would most likely have thought that something inappropriate might be happening, that kidnapping the boy would be illegal - but now? Not only did Snape care about these children, and especially Little Harry, but also was he completely adequate to care for the boy. On the contrary.

Severus Snape had been ready to risk anything, to risk his job, his home, his freedom, and even his life - to safe one of his students. That was more than any other teacher she knew was ready to give - so why should she not be alright with it? Snape would do what he thought was the best for the boy, she was sure about that, and that what Snape thought was the best, somehow she knew that it actually _was_.

It was that lonely carton of milk, resting on the counter that told her this little information.

Never before had the man forgotten the children's cartons of milk and surely he had never forgotten anything on a Friday evening with the upcoming Weekend that would have things getting spoiled - the classroom had always been exceptional tidy - until this very day, this day that promised no return, today, there was one lonely carton of milk standing on the sideboard.

A coincidence? A sign? Fate? What was it? She didn't know.

Approaching the window she prayed for the man and the child, even though she was not an overly religious person generally, but this time, she felt it was the right thing to do.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Bright sand, in the color of the brightest brown imaginable, nearly bright enough to hurt one's eyes was surrounding them in all directions and as far as the eye could see and even the nearby mount was covered in sand, but he knew that beneath the sand was stone, sand the wind up there had never managed to blow away - and he knew that there _was_ wind up there on the mountain, because he'd been up there many years ago, and more than once.

He could feel the hot wind down here too, hot winds that caused the sand on the ground to dance in small circles here and there, enough wind to blow a bit of the sand around for a few inches but not enough wind to really have the sand getting in ones eyes, for example. That only happened when there was a sandstorm, but that was rather rare in this particular region due to Osama's shields.

These shields did not prevent the people in the settlement from the harsh sun, from the heat or from the desert snakes, nor from the small winds that blew over the area - only the dangerous sandstorms that would destroy their houses which were built of sand too, Osama kept away with his shields, they were - simply redirected in a rather soft way to bypass the settlement. He'd seen it, the storm passing the shields and so he knew that it was an impressive sight, standing in the gentle and soft area while watching the storm raging as if there were no barriere between the quiet place and the place that was filled with raging sand.

Going down on one knee he slipped the backpack off his shoulders again, like he'd done so often during the past few hours, since yesterday night, and he pulled the wet cloth from the bag, running it over the feverish face of the child he was carrying. He had left Algeria after nearly two hours of rest he had allowed Harry, had apparated to Libya where he had again allowed the boy an hour or two before apparating to Egypt, two hours during which the small body had been leaning against him, tiredly, weakly, clearly unwell, and already with a fever starting to raise. He had given the child a fever reducer even though he had known that it only would prevent the fever from rising to a dangerous point but would not actually lower the fever, not as long as the child was exposed to apparition - or any other kind of magical transportation.

Therefore he had stayed in Egypt for the night, knowing that the child needed rest.

Of course he would have preferred being in the safety of Osama's home for the night instead of the desert of Egypt, but not only had the cold night wind done good to the boy but the rest too, even though _he_, Snape, had not slept for the night, cursing his stupidity over and over again, knowing that it only would have taken one more single apparition to Saudi-Arabia. And yet, he hadn't been able to deny the boy the night of rest. He'd built a fire to keep animal away and to provide the child with a bit of light in the darkness, but at the same time he had been worried that the fire might attract one or another person instead, maybe even one of their followers, while he had been thinking about the past few weeks, about their future, about the boy's future, about - about anything that had come to his mind.

What would Albus say if he knew? Would he approve of what he had done? This child was Albus' weapon in a war that was to come - and yes, he was no fool - he knew that there was a war to come. The Dark Lord had been defeated and had then vanished, he had not been killed. And so he knew that of course there would be a day when the madman would arise again, the Dark Lord had after all taken precautions to prevent his actual death long ago. No - the Dark Lord would rise again and this child was destined to be in the thick of it, this child was destined to destroy the Dark Lord for good.

At least in Albus' eyes and in the eyes of so many other witches and wizards.

But he would not allow it, not anytime soon at least, if he had any say in the boy's future life, because Harry was a child, and a child was not to fight the wars of the adults. He would fight Albus tooth and nail if he had to, to prevent this child from being a pawn in the man's game of chess he was playing with the Dark Lord.

Taking a deep breath and forcing his thoughts away he opened the bottle he had taken from his bag, again having the child drinking from the tea he had laced with a bit of salt, with dextrose and a with potion that would settle the child's stomach - not a combination that would taste too well, but he knew that the child needed all of it. The little fact that Harry indeed didn't notice that it was still the same bottle that didn't seem to get empty even though he had the boy drinking during every rest they took, had the boy drinking during the night every now and then - it was tale-telling, and worrying. It was as if the child didn't notice _anything_ that was happening around him. Not anymore, not still, he didn't know which.

"Just drink a bit of the tea." He softly said, even though he wasn't sure if the child would really hear him, understand him, and he wasn't sure either if he was keeping up a steady flow of speech to calm the boy's fears or his own nerves. "It will help with your stomach. I'm sure you have never before been travelling per apparition and so I'm sure that your stomach doesn't take it too well."

Indeed not. Yesterday the boy had lost the little food he'd managed to eat during lunch and he was sure - were there anything left, then the child would again be throwing up. As it was, the only thing the boy had in his stomach at the present time was the tea with the stomach soother.

Looking around and over to the mount, he noticed that he was about fifteen minutes away from Albayan. He of course could have apparated directly into the settlement and knowing Osama, the man would call him irresponsible for not doing so, but he knew that it was viewed as - rude, to apparate directly into a settlement, that an Arab would only do so if his life were at risk. Osama would scold him for not doing so, would tell him that this child's life was at risk too, but he knew that the hospitality of the Arab was so deep and great, he was not ready to startle or anger them.

Well, he'd done it.

He'd actually kidnapped Harry Potter, had not only left England but the entire continent, had brought him here where he hoped the child would be safe for the time being - at least until he had recovered, not only physically but mentally too. Harry Potter, the boy who lived - and he had kidnapped him, had taken him from wizarding Britain. Had he done the right thing?

He had kidnapped the boy who lived, he had kidnapped the boy, that was destined to safe the wizarding world - the one person that was viewed as more important than the wizarding minister. _Had_ he done the right thing?

"History may be my judge." He softly said while looking down at the child in his arms, running his slender fingers over the pale forehead to brush a few strands of hair from the bolt-shaped scar, the scar that marked this boy as the boy born to those who have thrice defied the Dark Lord, as the boy born as the seventh month dies - marked by the Dark Lord himself. It could have been the Longbottom boy, whose birthday was on July 31st too, and the Longbottoms too had defied the Dark Lord three times, just like Lily and Potter. But the Dark Lord had decided that the child in the prophecy had to be the son of the Potters, whatever reason for, and he had gone to kill that boy when he'd been just a year old, had caused this scar in his failed attempt and had therefore marked the child.

Not the prophecy had done so, not fate or fortune or doom had done so - but the Dark Lord himself.

"History may be my judge." He repeated while getting off the ground, lifting the child off the ground with him and wrapping his cloak around the small form of a five-year old child that rather looked like a two, or at a three-year old at the most to shelter him from the harsh sun while he started his way towards the mount where he knew Albayan lay, a small wizarding settlement in the middle of nowhere, about ten miles northwestward of Duhnah in the province Al-Quassim.

**The End**

* * *

**To be continued in**

Pockets of sand

**Next time in Cartons of milk - Pockets of sand**

_Will there be a new beginning for a small little boy or will fate have no mercy on Harry Potter, the boy who lived?_

_Will there be a new family and new friends for the 'little horror' and his Potions Master or will they have to live on the run forever?_

_Will there be a chance for a new life without fear or will the Dursleys be cleared of all charges? _

_And what about Dumbledore and the ministry in wizarding Britain?_

_Will there be friends for a little european child to play with while living in Saudi Arabia or will he be a stranger?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …

**House cup: **

At the present time it looks like this:

668 - Gryffindor

687 - Slytherin

550 - Ravenclaw

315 - Hufflepuff

* * *

**September 13th, 2013**

**Dear readers,**

just wish to inform you about another story – "… and sit a while with me …" – which will shortly start on the Profile of mrs. trabi here on fanfiction.

you will find some known persons in this story, and you will find one or another known incident in the story because the author of the story is me, even though I am posting this story not on my own profile but on my daughter's, and for several reasons so – one of it being because it's a rather unique story compared to my others.

more details you will learn while visiting mrs. trabi's profile:

www fanfiction net /u/2473886/mrs-trabi


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